


A little confused

by Abitconcerning



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bellarke AU Week, Bellarke Fic Week, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Endgame Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Friends to Lovers, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Modern Setting Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Octavia Blake & Clarke Griffin are Best Friends, Physical Abuse, Protective Bellamy Blake, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, The 100 (TV) Season 1, The 100 (TV) Season 2, The 100 (TV) Season 5, The 100 (TV) Season 6, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abitconcerning/pseuds/Abitconcerning
Summary: Clarke is studying medicine in university and catches the eye of new teacher's assistant, Cage Wallace. But Bellamy notices something off about him that Clarke refuses to see until things take a dangerous turn.Okay, if you have read my other works you know I like them angsty, but i'm trying to flesh out my characters a lot more now and make it more story-like. But besides that the usual warnings. A lot of triggers and sadness with the twist of some fluff this time.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin/Cage Wallace, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 76
Kudos: 61





	1. It's no big deal

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy :)

Head dipped as she scrawled her notes hurriedly, Clarke wondered if she would ever be able to discern what she was writing again. Even though she was an artist, she never truly mastered the art of neat handwriting. Letting out a silent sigh, Clarke gave up on trying to salvage the page of notes she had made. Instead she vowed that she would start a new page from wherever they were now and copy up later. There wasn't much time left of class anyway. She let her eyes wander the classroom a moment, grateful for the break she admittedly didn't deserve.

The only sound in the classroom, besides her professor's unrelenting drone, was the scratching of pen to paper and the occasional yawn. But then Clarke heard a soft step behind her and ducked her head down quickly, breath rapid at the thought of being caught slacking. But, instead of a berating voice she heard a light chuckle. 

Barely daring to turn her head, she let her eyes move to the person leaning over the side of her desk and caught his eye. 

"Um... Sorry.. I had a hand cramp, sort of... Sorry I wasn't trying to-" Clarke whispered to the new teaching assistant, Mr wallace.

He moved lower down and close to her ear, "Relax, I'm not gonna rat you out." He laughed again and Clarke tried to mimick it, but it just sounded uneasy, "Come on, Clarke. Why would I get a pretty girl like you in trouble?"

That caught her off guard.

"I would never risk you getting kicked out of class, who would I have to stare at then while he goes on and on?" Wallace gestured to Professor Jones who looks to be boring even himself.

"Mr Wallace-" Clarke started. She felt strange, she never had a teacher hit on her before.

"Just don't let it happen again, okay?" He smirked and straightened up, "or you and I might have to have words after class." 

He walked away and Clarke was left feeling dazed. Was he actually hitting on her? But why? It seemed out of nowhere, unprofessional and just weird. She was 19 and Mr Wallace was at least 26. She had never even thought of him like that because, well, he's a teacher... But, 7 years isn't that big of an age difference, is it? Was he even attractive?

Sneaking a look, Clarke spotted Mr Wallace lazily leant against the back of the room. He smiled back at her but with no teeth. She didn't know why that made her feel off but it did. Never the less she allowed her lips to turn upwards and grin back.

Maybe he wasn't conventionally attractive, but there was a certain charm to him. Perhaps there was something there to be had after all...

A book dropped beside her and Clarke was rudely brought back to earth. It was the end of the never ending lecture. She grabbed her book bag and excitedly filled it back up, only stopping when a scrap of paper fluttered on top of her textbook. She could make out a few numbers from the folded paper and realised what it was. But upon looking up she couldn't find Wallace.

"You look exhausted." Octavia was leant up on the wall beside the door to Clarke's classroom. Her last class ended 10 minutes before Clarke's did on a friday so she always waited for her so they could walk back to the flat together.

"You try sitting through one of Prof. Jones' lectures. It takes the life out of anyone." They both headed towards the door.

"Believe me, i've caught the end of all of them... Through a door! And I almost fall asleep every time." Octavia fluttered her hands around dramatically to prove her point, "That is the closest you will find me to being inside for one."

After leaving their University grounds, the two girls headed along the route to their flat.

Clarke laughed, "It'll be worth it. Anyway, how was political whatever class?"

"Political science. How hard is that?" They rounded the last street corner and stepped down the steps to the subway.

"Political science," Octavia exaggerated each syllable, "You know it's just as important as medicine. When I understand how politics work and become the most influential politician in the world you'll be annoyed with yourself for doubting me."

"Oh, okay and when, oh, wait! Shit we're gonna miss it!"

It was always a mad dash to reach the subway in time after class, more often than not they don't make it for the first subway and have to wait for the next one. But today they crashed past the closing doors just in time. Collapsing onto each other laughing as the other passengers look on disapprovingly. After they got settled in their seats Clarke continues.

"As I was saying, when you inevitably get shot or stabbed because you pissed off so many people, I will be the doctor to pull the bullet out and save your life. Therefore Doctors are more important." She nodded mockingly as if proud of herself for her point then laughed again.

"Whatever," Octavia stretched, "What's the plans for tonight?"

"Oh, God. Nothing please." Clarke let her head lull back to prove her tiredness as the subway stopped and some people scuttled out.

"You are so boring, you know that right?" She sucked in her cheeks then blew out, "Too late anyway, sorry,"

"O! Stop doing that! It's my flat just as much as yours, I get equal decision making powers!"

"No, you don't. I take over all decision making when you get boring, which I'm sorry to tell you, is what's happening right now!"

Clarke just groaned.

"It's just the boys and Raven anyway. No big deal. Not even our flat, we're going to Bellamy's," 

The subway was starting to get emptier and emptier with each stop until it was just Clarke and Octavia messing around.

This was how it's always been. Clarke was in her third year of uni, Octavia her second. She moved in with Clarke as soon as she joined. Their flat was 8 stops away from their school but unbelievably cheap because of it. 

The only reason they knew about it was because of Bellamy Blake, Octavia's older brother completing his masters in history. He was a self proclaimed cheapskate, but because of this he knew the best deals and places to rent which is how they found their two bedroom, one bathroom, spacious living room and kitchen for a suspiciously low amount each month. Him and Clarke have been friends since her first year but became even closer when Octavia came along. 

His even cheaper apartment was just across the street from theirs above a very greasy burger place, but if you didn't mind the smell of fries cooking through the night it was a great place. 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms with an even bigger kitchen than the girls'. He roomed with Monty and Jasper.

The subway jerked to a stop and the girls headed out, Clarke loved this part of the week. It was such a relief. Friday and maybe saturday (if she had a particularly heavy week) are the only days she lets herself have off. Medical courses are hard work.

They stood in front of the book shop their apartment was on top of as Clarke wrestled her bag for the keys before almost snapping them in the stiff lock and bounding up the uneven stairs.

"Okay, we go in. Get changed then go over to the boys, right?"

Octavia pushed open their door. Clarke had the key for the front door to get inside the building so Octavia insisted she got responsibility for the door to the actual flat. It made sense because Octavia's classes were almost always over before Clarke's but also safer this way. Octavia had a knack for losing things so this way even if she loses her keys, Clarke has the key to get inside the building itself.

"Fine," Clarke said grumpily.

"I don't know why you always do this," Octavia yelled as she went to her room and started getting changed, God forbid being in a different room prevent her from an argument. Clarke suddenly realised why Octavia would want to go into politics, "We come back from Uni, you say 'It's been a long week, I'm too tired!' I force you to go anyway, you have a great time only for you to forget again next week!"

Clarke walked to her room and opened her wardrobe.

"Look, I don't know what to tell you. It really has been a long week!"

Octavia moaned loudly through the wall going through their two bedrooms.

They both had very different personalities and it showed.

Take their rooms for example. Octavia's room was a creamy green but you could barely see it through her hundreds of posters on the wall, from Martin Luther King to Che Guevara or Lana del Rey to the pixies. She had them coating her room. Fake ivy intertwined with real plants on her desk and leaning up a half wall she kept for photos she had a portrait Clarke had drawn of her. On the floor was a pink wool rug stained all over.

Clarke's room was a different story all together. She kept her floor clean and bed a pristine white. Her organised desk sat against the wall the door was on and had medical notes adorning each corner of it, but on the other walls was art. And I don't mean canvases, paper or cardboard. She directly painted and sketched and even spray painted her walls. Loud 60s style flowers, cartoon-esque versions of friends, dangerously intricate landscapes. If you stared long enough you would be sure to find every form of art on those walls. 

Bellamy had almost thrown a fit when he saw it, "Clarke! You're renting it! That means you live there and don't damage it!"

"Hey," she playfully shoved him, "Don't call my art 'damage'. Anyway i've already bought extra thick cream paint for when we finally move out to cover it up,"

Clarke frowned. She had just finished it and already she had to think about covering it all up. It wasn't a masterpiece but she was expecting something a little different from horror in Bellamy's face.

He noticed, "No. I didn't mean it like that, sorry." He looked a little embarrassed, "I just got worried for you, that's all. I think it's really amazing."

Clarke had looked up at him and beamed.

"Hurry up! God, Clarke you switch between 2 outfits, how long does it take to throw one on?" Octavia banged at the door.

"I could kill you and cover it up easily, I'm a doctor, for God's sake." Clarke muttered as she pulled her shirt off and grabbed a new top.

"I heard that," Octavia yelled in a sing song voice, "And you're not a doctor yet"

Clarke stepped out in the black jeans she had bleached patterns on one leg of, a white flowy top with some obscure art piece and jacket. 

"Ahh, we went for outfit number 2 I see, very surprising."

Octavia was putting on a final coating of red lipstick as she looked Clarke up and down. O had opted for a more formal look, leather mini skirt and an oversized band top tucked in.

"You are hilarious, you know that?" Clarke said sarcastically and blank faced, "Are you sure it's just gonna be the boys, us and Raven?"

"100%" Octavia grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the flat.

"Mhm, and that's why you're all dressed up? To see your brother and his friends. Nope, I don't buy it. Lincoln's coming isn't he?"

Octavia hooked arms with Clarke but refused to look at her as they crossed the street, "If Lincoln is there, it's just a coincidence." 

"Sure."

The girls waved to Mrs Lou, who owned the burger place, and pushed through the side doors that lead up the winding steps to Bellamy's apartment.

"God, you would think Bellamy could find a cheap place closer to the ground," Clarke moaned as she started the slow climb.

"You know, for a doctor to be, you are surprisingly unfit."

Clarke glared at Octavia, "In the nicest way possible,"

Monty opened the door and the smell of marijuana hit them fast.

"Damn, Monty." Octavia laughed, "Could have at least waited for us."

"Don't look at me, it's Jasper," he let them both in but leaned in close to say, "He's taken his break up with Maya a lot worse than we thought."

The three looked glumly at each other then over to Jasper smoking in silence and staring out the window.

Music played low, creating a chill ambiance that Clarke appreciated. God knows she needed to relax.

"Hey, Bell!" Octavia ran over and gave him a bear hug.

He smile and pulled away then looked up and down at her outfit and groaned, " I knew it,"

Octavia looked startled, "What? What? You knew what?"

Clarke laughed and walked over to Bellamy who asked, "Clarke, tell me it's not what i think it is,"

"Sorry, Bell, can't lie... It's exactly what you think."

"Octavia, Lincoln's in the bathroom, he'll be out in a minute." Bellamy said.

At first Octavia opened her mouth to protest but then she thought better of it, smiled and said, "uh, thanks". And ran off to sit with Raven.

"Chin up. Lincoln is a nice guy, she's gone out with worse guys than that."

Bellamy looked at Clarke, "First of all, remind me to ask about "worse guys than that" later-" 

Clarke pretended to zip her lips.

"Second of all, I just think the age difference is a little weird."

Clarke's smile faltered for a moment, "Come on, she just turned 18 and is perfectly capable of making up her mind, five years is not so bad. What's age but a number, anyway."

Bellamy gave her a look, "Careful, Clarke. You're starting to sound like R Kelly."

After that came a night of drinking, for everyone except Clarke but it's okay, Jasper drank enough for the 2 of them. They listened to music and finally to end the night played a game.

"Rules are simple," Raven explained, "You either answer the question or take a deep puff," she presented the blunt and placed it in the middle of the group's circle.

Raven started, she asked Monty which girl in his class he would sleep with and he sheepishly replied with Harper. Monty asked Lincoln what he thought about Octavia and he replied, "I think she's pretty cool." Both of them blushing profusely.

Lincoln asked Jasper the last time he was this baked and he replied with, "Worst trip I ever had was when I got locked inside while babysitting my nephew cause I kept trying to open the door with his play keys. It was freaky, dude."

Jasper asked Bellamy who was the last person he slept with so Bellamy took a long dramatic draw from the blunt and let the smoke slowly escape his mouth. He caught Clarke staring a beat too long and she looked away, embarrassed.

"Okay, Octavia. Who is the worst guy you ever went out with?" 

Octavia grimace as she talked about a date at a nice restaurant with a seemingly normal guy. But when they finished he told her to wait in the car while he paid only to see him sprint out 5 minutes later with a waiter running after him when he tried to pull a dine and dash. He was caught and went to jail for a month.

After everyone was done laughing Octavia turned to Clarke, "Okay, Griffin. Last guy to hit on you?"

There was a little silence as everyone's laughter started to trail off and they turned to look at Clarke. She fiddled with her water bottle a beat too long and a splash of blush painted her face before excusing herself.

"O, that's not fair I can't take a hit of the blunt, I have work tomorrow."

"So does Bellamy and he doesn't care. But if you're gonna be a baby: just answer the question, it's not even a hard one." Octavia batted her eyes comically, "We are all just dying to know what guy you last scandalous flirtation you took part in,"

"Yeah, princess. Now i'm intrigued." Bellamy laughed. He was looking at her with a "it's no big deal" kind of look on his face. She really didn't want him to think she was being a prude.

Clarke breathed out then plastered on a smile, "Fine, Cage Wallace."

The information settled then sparked alarms.

"Wait, what?" Raven's mouth hung open, "As in MR Wallace?"

"Ewwww" Octavia pretended to gag.

"Yeah, today in class." Clarke looked at the floor embarrassed, "It's not that bad. He's actually really nice,"

They all talked at the same time. The wall of disapproval hitting Clarke, but making not a lot of an impact. She saw Bellamy sit silent then they linked eyes. He thought carefully before opening his mouth.

"That's not cool. Totally predatory." Bellamy said. Lincoln and the other boys nodded with him, then a thought crossed his mind, "Wait, that's not why you-"

"Well, that was fun. But i'm probably gonna pass out if I don't get to bed soon."

Clarke grabbed a whining Octavia and whisked her home before an uncomfortable conversation took place.

Later, Clarke couldn't sleep. Something in Bellamy's face just looked disappointed in her. How could she help what guys she attracted? Maybe that's not what it was...

In bed, Clarke fished for her phone in her book bag beside her bed and brought out the number with it. After staring at it in the blue light of her phone for a while she gave in and punched in the number -then left a text.

Hey.


	2. The further we go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to pick up speed for Clarke and Cage, to the irritation of Bellamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, here is another chapter. Sorry if it seems like the story isn't going anywhere, i promise it is :)

Waking up to the sun gently warming her face was something Clarke had grown accustomed to, but never ungrateful for. 

The mornings used to be a struggle, as they are for most people, but Clarke realised the problem wasn't waking up- it was pulling herself out of a blanketed cocoon in the dark, clicking on too bright fake lights and squinting at nothing while debating whether you can risk five more minutes before plunging back into the fluorescent glare of the day.

None of that sounded appealing. 

But what does sound appealing is slowly opening your eyes as the pale gold sun laps at your face, the room already alight with it's glow and you can let yourself rise gracefully with a content feeling, warmed by the sun you let dip into your room.

That is just how Clarke intended to get up every morning and, for the most part, it's been a success.

Bellamy was not so keen on the idea, "Look, Clarke, I don't care how 'energised' or 'peaceful' it makes you feel. It's stupid to leave your curtains open all night and you know it. What if some perv watches you sleep?"

"Okay, that's ridiculous-"

"People are creepy, okay? Don't be so naive."

But, despite Bellamy's protests, the curtains stayed open. 

Padding past Octavia's room into the kitchen, Clarke started to pour herself some cereal. It was the dry tasteless stuff that you eat to try and be healthy but in reality does nothing but bring a little more blandness into your life. She squeezed some honey on top of them to at least attempt to add a little flavour.

Octavia was suprisingly a morning person, she liked to even go for a run before breakfast, but not even she could brave a hangover before 9. Because of this, Clarke felt a little strange having breakfast by herself. It left her alone with her thoughts and nothing else seemed to be on her mind but....

She stared at her phone, it was face down on their coffee table, now somehow radiating anxiety. 

The conversation she had last night was hardly memorable, it wasn't even flirtatious exactly, but Clarke couldn't stop thinking about it. Cage had been incredibly polite, despite the fact she had woken him up, and kept up a nice conversation for ten minutes before saying goodnight. 

And that was it. 

So why was she so fixated on it? It wasn't as if she really liked him. Something was just... Different, a little bit too far off the track of being right. Just not necessarily wrong.

The phone buzzed and sent waves of nerves through her. She decided to leave it.

Before getting swallowed by her own thoughts, Clarke dragged herself back to her room and got changed. Bellamy would be here soon to go to work and she can't be half dressed when he gets here.

Clarke and Bellamy both work in a local coffee house half way between their university and apartments. The pay was mediocre but the atmosphere was incredible. Positioned at an angle that attracted tourists fresh off the tour bus and adjacent to the local housing estates, the whole shop was constantly electrified with the energy of a cup of coffee and a busy minded traveller. Or maybe just a shop regular who was equally as drawn to the high vibrations of the little cafe.

So every Saturday and Sunday morning, and any other evening they could, Clarke and Bellamy raced to open up and let the steady ebb of people come in to taste the caffeinated atmosphere.

Clarke and Bellamy had both gotten the job for a bit of fun and to pay rent. They liked each other's company and it just sort of happened that way...

Conversation didn't flow between Clarke and Bellamy, well, sometimes it did. But for the most part they communicated through debates and witty back and forths. This resulted in a more staccato rhythm rather than a gliding pace. They both liked it that way. They thought it was just how they worked. But sometimes, the bickering would verge on flirting. Maybe not verge on, but skate along the line of it. And the two were incredibly grateful that their jagged conversation tactics kept the long silences at bay, when they might have been forced to bring it up. 

Thank God for that....

"Hey, Clarke. Do you want to open the door today or should I?"

Bellamy was leaning against the coffee beans display, arms crossed and a smile pulling on his lips.

"Um, you go ahead," Clarke yelled up from sorting the different syrups across the counter. The sound of the makeshift bottle cap windchimes twinkling to start the day.

The journey to the cafe was slow, Bellamy had tried to prod some sort of conversation out of her, but any time the pace would begin to pick up Clarke's phone would buzz and extinguish it. She never looked at the message, but would just fade out of her sentence. It got to the point where Bellamy threatened to take her phone and silence it himself.

Clarke got to work on powering up the coffee grinder and Bellamy pushed open the cash register to count the change.

"Wonder where Rafe is." 

Clarke looked round, "What did you say?"

"Said, 'wonder where Rafe is.'" Bellamy gestured to the door, "Usually first in,"

Wiping her hands and standing up, Clarke made her way over to the counter, "Maybe he finally gave in and tried starbucks,"

He laughed, "God, I hope not. He makes up half my tips,"

As usual, the influx of people started slow and built up until they were yelling across the shop during lunchtime rush. Scalding themselves, and tripping over each other behind the cramped counter until the very last group of teenagers left and they could finally breath.

"I'll never get used to that," 

"The lunch-rush?" Bellamy looked up from his black coffee he was nursing.

"No, well... Sort of," Clarke looked for the words, "It's just a weird amount of pressure just to bring someone a special liquid to keep them wired."

"To be fair, these people can get pretty nasty if they don't get their fix."

A new voice popped up, "Fix of what?"

Clarke looked up, "Cage?"

He smiled, "Hope it's not a bad time," he glanced to Bellamy who seemed to be ignoring him, "Was hoping for some coffee?"

"Oh, of course. Sorry," she laughed awkwardly as she jumped off the counter and grabbed the pot.

"Americano?"

"Perfect." He smiled again, why did he always do that? He never showed his teeth, it felt like he was almost being condescending to her. How you would smile at a teenager who you were trying to not strangle for breaking your new TV because it was your friend's kid.

"Are you busy or can you sit with me?" He gestured to the plush seats by the window.

Clarke looked by at Bellamy who swallowed then nodded.

"Sure thing,"

Cage chose the seat shaped like a throne, it was white and had purple lining. It towered over Clarke's seat; a much more modest navy wing chair.

"I tried to text you,"

Clarke shifted, "Sorry, busy morning. You know how it can be. I needed to get-" 

He interrupted, "Come on, Clarke. I know it hasn't been long but I thought we had started something..."

He met her eyes. She held them for a moment then blinked and looked down at her hands.

"Then you try and ghost me?"

"I wasn't-"

"Don't push me away before you even know me, maybe you'll like it more than you think you will,"

Clarke stayed quiet. Cage moved forward, almost completely over the little coffee table between the chairs and grabbed for Clarke's hands. Forcing her to look back up and into his dark eyes.

"Let's just try it, okay? A bit of fun. It can be as serious as you want it to be."

Clarke bit the inside of her mouth, she didn't know what to say. He was holding her hands tightly, forcing her to be as bent over as him.

"Come on, no pressure." He winked.

Her mind fell blank, excuses couldn't leave her lips. Maybe she didn't want one to.

"Okay, lets try it."

"Great!" He immediately straightened out again and downed the rest of his cup, " I have to go now,"

She expected him to move to leave so she smiled him only to see his falter for a moment before realising he wanted her to walk him out.

Her mouth formed an oh and she jumped up to his side. Cage wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned into her ear, "Haven't forgotten to be a good girlfriend already, have we?" He squeezed her and she stiffened up, his hand pressing hard on her elbow.

At the door they said goodbye but before leaving he tapped his cheek with a smirk. "Goodbye kiss?"

She forced a smile and leant up to gently kiss his cheek.

"I'll text you later, and respond this time."

For a minute Clarke stayed at the door, leaning on the frame and wondering what she had let herself be dragged into. Until she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"What are you doing, Clarke?" His voice was deep and laced with concern. Why did that frustrate her?

"Nothing," she shrugged him off, "Nothing at all."

He let off an exasperated laugh, "Seriously? Nothing? That man is using you."

She spun around and faced him, toe to toe, "Yeah? Well, maybe i'm the one using him. You know me, i'll do anything for a good grade." She smirked and waited for the chuckle. Instead he winced.

"You wouldn't do that."

Clarke started to feel angry now, "What do you know? I don't see the problem here." She pushed past him.

"The problem is you letting someone in power abuse it to get you." He pointed at her.

Clarke scoffed, "You Blakes really do a dramatic flair."

Bellamy groaned, "Listen to my advice or don't. I just think you know better than this. But who cares, right?" 

Clarke tightened her lips.

"Never listen to my advice anyway." Bellamy walked back to the counter just as a new customer walked in and everything was placed on pause.

2 hours of silence later, Bellamy was locking up the doors with Clarke waiting. She blew into her hands to try and get rid or the numbness that spread through her fingers as the cold night began to sweep in.

"I'm sorry," she paused mid-blow and looked up, confused

"You're what?" Clarke never knew Bellamy to be one to apologise. Either he was always right or he refused to admit he wasn't.

"I'm sorry," he sheepishly grabbed the back of his head and looked around Clarke, anywhere but her eyes, "I trust you, if you say you know Cage; then you know Cage."

Warmth spread through her face, "God, Bellamy. It really means a lot to me that you would say that,"

"Yeah, I guess I can be dramatic sometimes." Bellamy grinned and Clarke cackled, "So, we all good now?"

"Obviously. Let's head back."

On the way home, they both pretended nothing had happened. And they even started an argument to pass the time. Cage wasn't even mentioned again until:

"You know what? I'm actually impressed," they were two stops from home and a lull in the conversation prompted Bellamy to say this.

"By what?" Clarke was nibbling on a sandwhich she had "borrowed" from the shop.

"That he came to your work. Like to remember that from conversation, then act suave enough to coax a date out of you of all people. That is tough going. But I guess he got his just deserts... What's wrong?"

Clarke had suddenly sat upright, she was chewing her lip.

"Oh, nothing. No. I just thought I had lost my keys for a moment. But we're all good" she coughed up a laugh.

"Okay....." Bellamy looked disbelievingly but continued on with his rant anyway. Clarke had stopped listening. She was too busy wondering how Cage knew where she worked, because she had definitely never told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! It's been far too long since I attempted a story and i can't believe I didn't realise how much I miss it. Please, please, please give any sort of feedback in the comments I don't mind if it's just to let me know you're interested or to critique me :)


	3. Crumbling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So new chapter and hopefully the story is starting go take shape. I'm curious if people are interested or not and what they want from this. I'm really open minded with where this will lead so if you have any opinion at all, please let me know and leave a comment.

Things started to move too far quickly for Clarke. After that day at the cafe, Cage became even more persistent that whatever was between them didn't fizzle out. 

She could hardly focus in class with him leaning over her shoulder or whispering things in her ear. He always wanted to walk her home, despite her attempts to explain her and Octavia's routine. And he scheduled to do things without telling her in advance.

These were all romantic things, Clarke reminded herself. This was the stuff rom-coms were built on. But life was different. Because in real life, everyone knows Clarke is a control freak and she needs to be one organising things. Someone who knew her would know that her routines are sacred, and someone who knew her would understand she had to work hard to get into med school. So distractions were a slap in the face.

It was friday again, two weeks after the cafe. And Clarke woke up refreshed for the first time since then. She had a plan to get her life back on track. A plan that she had poured over for a long time.

Today she would break up with Cage. 

He couldn't say that she hadn't tried. And she really had, but things never fell into place. She never felt comfortable around him. That was the key to getting him to understand why she was letting him go.

If two weeks ago was any indicator to the kind of person Cage was, then Clarke was assured he would not go down without a fight. Which is why she is not going to let him say no.

"Cage, I care about you... I really do. It's just that I feel this relationship has grown inappropriate. I need to focus on my studies and if anyone in the school found out about us you could be kicked out; we both could. I don't want to hurt you, but I believe friendship is the best we could offer each other right now."

No arguing. No manipulation. Nothing.

She wanted to do it before her last class of the day started; this way it won't interfere with her and Octavia getting home together. She was so confident in her plan she had even asked Bellamy to help her out at the cafe for a shift tonight so they could talk. She missed her best friend who had grown distant over the past 2 week. She had to assume it was because of Cage, despite what he said, Bellamy didn't like Cage. And a part of Clarke knew that Cage would not mix very well with him either.

Unfortunately, things went a little differently.

Cage was no where to be found before class. So she had to postpone. But soon enough,

The long ride of her class began, but for once Clarke was excited. She spent a long time focusing on her notes, trying to simultaneously remember everything she had memorized for her break up speech. She never even bothered to look up at Cage during class. What was the point of giving him false hope now? In the final stretch?

"Hey," Clarke jumped a mile.

The whisper was far too close to her ear for comfort and the added hand on her lower back made her skin goosebump. But not in a good way.

She turned to face him, for once she neglected to plaster on a smile. It felt good. But Cage noticed. He cocked his head to the side and moved to brush her hair out of her face. Instead, Clarke moved away from his hand and shook her head.

"We need to talk," she mouthed to him. 

He nodded but looked put out, like a little boy finding out there was no dessert after dinner, even though it's what he was promised.

As he walked away, Clarke started to wonder if breaking his heart was worth it. But she quickly reminded herself that she didn't owe anyone anything, let alone someone a relationship she was coerced into.

The class ended, but Clarke's heart rate began to soar. The nerves of what she was about to do crested. She had never broken up with anyone before. Maybe your teaching assistant wasn't the best first person to start with.

"Clarke?" She spun around. He stood in front of her, hands in pockets and a weird look on his face. Almost like disappointment. It dawned on Clarke he might know what's coming.

She pushed down her feelings and gave a determined smile, "Cage, I really think we need to talk."

He nodded and gestured to the seat next to her, he leaned on the desk in front, peering down at her blushing face.

She looked up, "I feel as though our relationship might have run it's course and that we should-" he cut her off by standing up and walking away.

"Cage?" Clarke tried to follow him but he quickly spun around again and caught her by suprise.

"You know what your problem is, Clarke?" He pointed at her and his eyes were strained.

"Cage? 

"It's that you don't know what's good for you."

She was stunned.

Cage let his hands drop to his side and sighed before dragging them through his hair.

"I care about you.... And you're pushing me away? Why?"

He stepped closer to her, forcing her backwards. Clarke stuttered for an answer but came up empty handed. So Cage continued to back her into a corner with his words.

"Because I don't exactly see a line of people offering that. Not for you."

He was over pronouncing every word and with each syllable he spat it out. Like it disgusted him, like she disgusted him.

"I am the only one that cares about you like that. Just me."

The words hit her. She felt like he punched her in the nose. The impact bringing tears to her eyes.

Clarke eyed the door, and before he could spring into his next spree of hurtful words, she sprinted out of class. Shoving past him. She ran to Octavia. Who would comfort her and make it all better, hopefully by making fun of Cage. That's all she needs.

But Clarke was greeted by an empty hallway instead. She panicked, frantically scanning the corridor. Something that became increasingly difficult as tears blurred her eyesight and her sniffing became frenzied.

Why would Octavia leave her?

A hand fell on her shoulder. She didn't turn around immediately, trying to protect some of her pride from him. But he forced her to turn around.

This time she didn't have the energy to move away from his hand that brushed away the tears and her hair behind her ears. She didn't even bother to stop him leaning in and kissing her. It was a gentle kiss, but it was not an apologetic kiss. Clarke could distinguish that.

Why had his words hit so hard? Why was she a blubbering mess after all that planning? Maybe she wasn't strong enough.

"Let me take you home," he draped his arms around her and guided her back to his car. He even did her seat buckle while she stared vacantly at anywhere but him.

The car drive was silent. She didn't want to talk and neither did he. Although Clarke must admit, she was starting to wonder if Cage realised she was still serious about breaking up. This consumed her until she realised they missed her turn off. And then another.

"Where are we going," Clarke managed to croak.

"Home," 

Cage pulled up outside his apartment and looked over at her. She shook her head.

"I want to go to my home," the added emphasise on "my" made Cage squint.

"Just give this a minute, please," before she knew what was happening, Cage jumped out of the car and was pulling her out of her seat.

She protested, she pulled back, she even yelled at him. But in the end she gave in and let him drag her inside.

"Sit down, I'll make coffee."

His apartment was void of colour, a grey life consuming man cage loomed over her.

She sat down stiffly on a black leather sofa, it felt new and hard.

The coffee grinder whirred and she could hear him potter about in the kitchen. Spoons clanging, him muttering.

All the while, Clarke let herself float away. She was nursing a post-cry headache that made everything feel heavy and her feel nothing but fatigue.

A few minutes later, Cage re-appeared clutching two mugs and a smirk.

"How are you feeling?" He sat down right next to her, too close for Clarke to not shift away slightly. But no matter how far she moved, he bridged the gap each time.

"I'm just tired, I want to go home. You don't need to drive me. Just tell me where the next subway stop-"

"I know what you need!" He grinned at his interruption, "A massage!"

"No, no. Not right now." She protested but he grabbed the coffee cup out of her hand and pushed her down on the sofa with the other. She didn't want to fight him. If she pushed him away too harshly again then he would start hurling insults again. Clarke didn't know if she could handle that. So she lay on her stomach for him.

"Now close your eyes.... I mean it," she reluctantly let her eyes drop shut.

He slowly massaged her shoulders, and as much as she hated to admit it, the process relaxed her. Her eyes felt heavy and soon Clarke knew she would drop off, that is, if Cage had continued to massage her shoulders.

But Clarke felt his fingers slipping, they moved down her back, brushed passed...

"Cage..." She murmured, "No,"

"Shhh," he started to pull at her blue jeans.

"Seriously, stop," Clarke made to get up but found herself flat down again as Cage pushed all his weight on her.

"Just relax, Clarke,"

Panic began to set in. She kept pushing up but couldn't overpower him. Clarke was begging.

"Stop, please. Not now-" she felt her trousers slip off her waist.

He moved his fingers along her pantie line.

"Stop," she whispered so softly he wouldn't have even been able to hear it.

But he didn't. And she stopped pushing to get away. She just let him push his fingers past and go where they wanted.

Her tears didn't flow like before. They just stopped.

"I'm too tired to drive you home, are you okay to take the subway?" 

She hadn't even noticed his weight was off her. Because it never really left. She nodded and slowly peeled herself up.

The door was so close.

She pulled up her jeans and tried to zip them only to find the zipper bent so badly that the zip didn't work.

Cage walked to another door, she assumed it was his room. She gathered her strength and pulled herself upwards. 

The door handle screamed for her to open it and run.

But the pain made her stop mid-tracks. She blanched but pushed on. She was so close. Her hands yanked the door open and she stepped into the hall.

"I'll call you." Clarke could have collapsed along the door frame and just given up. But she couldn't.

Not bothering to respond, she quickly walked out into the cool night air and felt the contrast of the chill to the hot tears that fell down her chin. To the sweat that stuck her top to her lower back. And the fire that burned her insides.

But pushing all that aside, all Clarke wanted was sleep. But it was a long trudge home.

The subway had been completely empty. Not even some crazy circus freak to scare some sense into her. Clarke doubted that if the subway went dead anyone would notice, she wasn't even sure if she would notice.

Every once in a while, Clarke would double over on her walk towards the apartment. It felt like she would be sick. Like a drunk on the street. She would wince and hold back her tears, with mixed results, and continue to travel. That is what happened directly outside her apartment door. Until she heard the thumping of speakers behind it.

No. No. No.

Pushing the door open, Clarke was greeted with the most unwelcome sight. A party.

"Clarke!" Octavia ran and threw her arms around her, "Don't you just love me? I need to tell you something! But don't be mad at the party! I was lonely."

Clarke could smell the booze on her breath.

"Clarke!" Another voice called out. Bellamy. Shit. She had forgotten about-

"You forgot about the cafe, didn't you?" He looked mad as he approached her, "Look, I don't care if that was some kind of practical joke or whatever, but i'm still pissed so don't you ever-" he stopped mid sentence and mid step.

"Clarke?" His face softened and he started moving forward again, slower, "Are you okay?" 

That was when Clarke realised she was still bent over herself slightly and was probably pale as a sheet. Or maybe her face was still puffy from her last cry. Whichever it was, it didn't look too good to Bellamy.

He stood in front of her and tried to reach for Clarke. She didn't let him get her. Instead, she pulled herself upright and slapped on a smile that was thin as a veil. But just moving caused her to have to close both eyes tight for a moment to process the pain in her stomach. But she ripped them open again before it became too suspicious.

Bellamy's hands still hung in the air toward her. And his eyes were unwavering.

"I'm great! Sorry about leaving you to fend for yourself, was it busy?" Clarke tried to keep her hands positioned over her zipper to keep from further embarrassment.

"No, not really," Bellamy looked unconvinced, "But Clarke, what aren't you-"

"I'm gonna get a drink. Sorry, just parched." She headed past drunken Octavia, too oblivious to notice what Bellamy had.

But nonetheless, as Clarke filled a cup with water at the sink and desperately tried to block out the unrelenting pounding that was either her own head or the music, Octavia's hand turned her around. She looked a little more sobered up.

"Sorry, did I kill your buzz?"

"What? Oh, no..." Octavia looked sheepish, "It's just...you um...."

"What?" Clarke swallowed hard.

"You bled through your jeans," Octavia gestured towards the ruined trousers, "Here's my jumper, tie it round your waist."

"Thank you," Clarke blushed a deep red and accepted the jumper.

"It's weird, I thought you just had your period..."

"Oh, well, thank you for noticing..." Clarke stopped when she saw Octavia giggle.

"Not such a buzzkill now ,huh? Why are you laughing?" 

Octavia smirked, "I wasn't the one to notice, Bell sent me over."

Clarke gasped, "No!" She was so embarrassed, it was indescribable, "Octavia, that's not funny."

"No, but it is romantic..." She fluttered her eyelashes and collapsed into another peel of giggles, "He was checking you out,"

Clarke couldn't do this. She couldn't explain why she didn't want Octavia to laugh at her and how she hated the fact Bellamy knew something was wrong. She couldn't explain how this pain kept bubbling up and up but never popped. She couldn't explain how everyone around her made her feel more and more frustrated. She just needed to sleep.

So she pushed past Octavia, who called out her name. She bumped past strangers in her own home who yelled abuse at her for being inconsiderate. She ignored Bellamy yelling from the kitchen for her to come back. She just stumbled into her room and locked the door. Finally letting her tears fall once again and the silent sobs rack her body because she just couldn't bear to let anyone else know. To let anyone else down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review!! It really motivates me and everything is a bit lack luster at the moment. So i could really use some extra support!


	4. Blurry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes a decision about Cage with Bellamy's help, but whether Bellamy knows he helped make this decision is another story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry i have been gone for a while. Honestly this story is going a lot slower than my previous ones but i'm still enjoying it. Also i would like to say please get involved with the current blm movement and protests IF you can. Stay safe, stay with friends, wear a mask and goggles if you can. Please use your platform and voice to be a force of good in scary times.

Sleep was thick and heavy on Clarke that night. Her head was so blurred with the day's events that she couldn't have asked for a better gift. But in the morning her puffy eyes and tangled limbs made her feel so much worse. She couldn't stop her legs from aching nor her hands from shaking. Nothing she thought about could soothe her mind.

As she adjusted herself to lie on her back, the ceiling caught her eye; there was a giant sun done in a henna tattoo style and a star constellation in watercolour. The two pictures contrasted eachother wildly but represented similar things to Clarke. She wanted to be able to look up at them and feel safe. Safe under a golden sun or a bustling universe of bright lights. The images brought little solace to her now. She lazily hung her hand in the air and counted each star. When painting them she had named each one after someone important in her life and the broken lines that kept them all together.

She scanned the names now, Bellamy, Murphy, Miller, Emori, Octavia, Raven..... 

Her starry friends.

Just looking at it all made Clarke's head spin and her heart clench. The thought of all these people that she couldn't tell. All these people who would look at her with all the pity of the world in their eyes and make her feel so small, like a child that needs to be protected... It made her feel ill. But worse still, the disappointment. She had let Cage to do this. It was so... embarrassing. All she could see was Bellamy looking at her with sadness and protectiveness and yet it felt like disgust. It might as well have been for her.

And for some reason, letting Bellamy down made her breathe catch in her throat.

Clarke groaned and shook her head, hitting it hard against the soft pillows. But still, she had to get up and face the world. Octavia would press her about last night, but once she dealt with her then Clarke knew she could work damage control with the rest. 

The effects of yesterday hit immediately.

From lifting her head off her pillow to swinging her legs over the cliff of the bed, Clarke's body hurt. It was made of lead but trembled like a feather.

Walking to the mirror, with delicate footsteps and carefully curated fragility, she peeled off last nights outfit and started to assess the damage. 

Clarke pressed her hands to her face to try and make it look less rough, gently massaging her sore skin. Her eyes were still bloodshot and it was painfully obvious she had spent most of the previous night crying.  
She was bruise free but noted that her whole body felt black and blue regardless... Lucky for Clarke, pain can be hidden a lot better than wounds or injuries. Her lower stomach ached, as though she was cramping, but this seemed to be easing.

Clarke smiled weakly to herself, she had been expecting a lot worse. Images of blood soaked thighs and herself made unrecognisable under layers of bruises. That made her think. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought. Cage hadn't even had sex with her, it was just what he did with his.... Hands. Does that even count? She didn't fight hard, so is it at all possible that he didn't realise what he had done?  
Even as she thought this, her body shuddered. No. He was an asshole.

Clarke was starting to regain herself a little. She was angry, very very angry but it was a nice umbrella for her pain. The swelling depressing feeling inside of her that seemed constantly surging. She knew it could be worse. So much more could have happened. But her body belonged to something else now, not even a person, but a memory she can't shake. And it's still so fresh.

She tried to slap on a stronger smile but it wouldn't stick, so she settled for a simple neutral face. Grabbing her dressing gown, she slipped out of her room and into the kitchen.

"Morning." It was Octavia, who was looking rough, but Clarke knew it wasn't half as bad as how she, herself, looked. O was sitting at the kitchen table. No food or drinks. Not even her phone. Octavia's hands were clasped together on the table, she was hyper focused on her interlocking fingers until Clarke walked through the door. Lost in thought.

"Good morning," Clarke started towards the fridge and pulled out some milk. Her hands tried to betray her with shaking fingers but she just slammed the carton down on the countertop hard to counteracts it, the slam made both girls jump. No amount of forced smiles would stop the look Octavia was giving her.

"So," Octavia stood up and leant beside the freezer, "What happened last night?"

Clarke moved away, "Nothing," she grabbed a bowl and started to make some cereal

Octavia followed suit, "Mhm, and that's why you ran to your room, I assumed in tears, after I point out Bellamy checking you out?"

Clarke sighed and turned to face her, "It has nothing to do with that. And also I think it's weird you're excited that your brother looked at my ass. Also: he wasn't looking at my ass, it was a stain. His eyes were just drawn to it." She returned to her cereal and grabbed a spoon.

"How did you get that stain anyway?"

"Jesus, it's just question after question. Is this the spanish inquisition?"

"Stop avoiding the question."

"I got my period, obviously."

"But you just-"

Clarke slapped her bowl down on the table, the milk drenched the cloth, "Look, my periods are just weird and irregular, okay?" She hissed, "And that is no ones business but mine. So stop it please."

"I'm just looking out for you." Octavia's arms were crossed, she was frowning as if angry but her posture screamed hurt. Clarke was the one that protected her, it seemed unnatural the other way around.

Clarke's face softened, "I'm sorry," she pulled her into a hug, "I guess i'm just irritable recently,"

Octavia was stiff at first but eventually relaxed into the embrace, "It's fine. I was just being nosey."

Clarke laughed and pulled away, "Sometimes, you still talk like you're five years old."

"Hey," Clarke snapped her head around to see Bellamy standing at the kitchen entrance, awkwardly positioned half in the room and out of it. His hair was sticking out weirdly and he wore a much more crumpled version of last nights clothes. Had he been listening to the whole conversation? Clarke couldn't keep her face from blooming crimson.

"Did you sleep over?" Clarke questioned him, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. He had scared her. She hadn't expected to see him so soon. She tried to remind herself that he was just another person to prove to that she was okay. And why would he suspect any otherwise? There was no reason for her heartbeat to quicken like it had. Bellamy's usual over confidence seemed to have vanished as he nervously walked towards them.

"Um, Yeah," he sat down at the breakfast table, "I was so wasted last night that I thought, Well, O thought it would be best to-"

Octavia seemed to suddenly burst, "Oh. Yeah! I thought it would be best for him to stay, you know, for...uh, safety!" She struggled to string her words together.

Clarke was finding it very hard not to laugh at the two Blake idiots babbling but instead she just smiled and slyly said, "Too drunk to walk across the street? To his own apartment? With his roomates?"

Bellamy looked at the table and smiled to himself, seeing the humour of the situation, "Yeah, Clarke. Exactly that."

After breakfast the three of them decided to just sit and watch something on tv, but nothing good was on so they settled for re-runs of a comedy show that they had all seen too many times. Octavia sat on the chair diagonal from the screen, letting Bellamy and Clarke share the sofa. They sat a little closer than was probably appropriate and before long Clarke felt her head rest on his shoulders. He didn't even react. After a while it became clear the show was boring them more than anything else and because of their shared lack of interest, the Blake siblings just went on their phones, allowing the mechanical laughter to fade into the backdrop. But Clarke couldn't, she didn't want to see what Cage would have messaged her. She couldn't bear to even imagine him pretending everything was normal. That he hadn't just assaulted her.

So she let her eyes glaze over and her thoughts to swirl around her mind. Unbearably loud to only her and peaceful to everyone else.

But then a string of pings erupted in the room. 

"Group message," Octavia examined her phone, "Raven wants us to all go to the lake today. What do you guys think?"

"Yeah, no reason not to. Sounds fun," Bellamy turned his head to Clarke, "Unless the good doctor has something better to do?"

Clarke bit the inner part of her lip. She didn't exactly have a reason to not go. And maybe it would wipe away this nauseous feeling she had. 

"Nope," she faked enthusiasm, hoping it would become real, "Lets go."

"Okay, it's us, Murphy, Emori, Raven, Monty and Miller. Jasper is a little too busy being depressed apparently." Octavia read out loud.

"Nah, i'll get Jasper to come." Bellamy got up and walked to the door, "I'll come over with them in like 30 minutes. Be ready." 

Just as he opened the door and was about to step out, Clarke called out, "Bellamy! Wait!"

He quickly stepped back in, puzzled look on his face, "What happened?"

She smiled slyly, "Just saying you should probably take some painkillers for that headache you undoubtedly are suffering from," her smile widened, "You know, from being completely "wasted" last night?"

Bellamy's eyes widened the tiniest bit but he smiled broadly and simply said, "Thanks Clarke, nice to know you care."

After the door closed Octavia scoffed, "And you say I'm a flirt."

"Shut up,"

Octavia heaved herself up and walked over to offer a hand to Clarke and lifted her up with it.

"Watcha gonna wear?" She said in a sing-song voice. 

Clarke thought for a moment, "Shorts and a t-shirt?"

"Really? I thought you might try to dress up a little,"

Clarke snorted, "Why would I do that?"

"For Bellamy,"

"Oh my god!" Clarke groaned, "O, stop that. It's weird. How can you take a completely platonic friendship and turn it into some sort of romance?"

Octavia looked at Clarke in disbelief as she followed her to her room, "Only because all the signs have always been there. You flirt all the time. The both of you are never not talking-"

"Arguing, you mean," Clarke interjected.

"Same thing. You always stare at him when he's not looking, and he only took the coffee shop job to be with you-"

"What?" Clarke stopped in her tracks and spun around.

"Shit." Octavia looked genuinely embarrassed, "It was when you two were just starting off as friends. He wanted to get closer, as friends, which I said sounded stupid and he said I was reading too much into it."

Clarke let herself breathe, "See? It was nothing. There is nothing between us."

"Then why did you react like that?" 

"You are unbelievable!" Clarke walked into her room and slammed the door. But in her head she had to admit, Octavia was going to make a great politician.

10 minutes later, after much inner debate, Clarke emerged from her room in the shorts and t-shirt she was always going to wear.

Octavia rolled her eyes when she saw her but said she looked great despite the boring outfit.

"You have your swimming costume on underneath?"

"Yep, wearing my red one." Clarke lifted her shirt a little to show.

"Not even a bikini?" Octavia crossed her arms, "Even i'm starting to lose hope."

"Oh shut up, the boys will be here in a minute with Raven."

Octavia wore a high waisted maxi dress with slits down either side and a crop top, Clarke found it difficult to admit, buts she was sometimes jealous of Octavia's natural fashion forward style.

A little while later everyone was in Raven's truck. Unfortunately, Bellamy couldn't convince Jasper to emerge from his bed but insisted they go without him. Bellamy was reluctant but gave in to everyone's pleas for him to come anyway. Raven drove and Bellamy rode shotgun and supplied the songs. Some of which were a little too obscure for the rest of the group.

"Bellamy, I swear to God if you play one more mumbling, alt, indie, punk band wannabe song on I'll jump out of the car!"

He laughed, "You are so brainwashed. This is good music, I don't think any of your "top 40" pop songs can compete with my "punk band wannabes" as you put it."

The long rodes stretched in front of them, inviting adventure and memories to be made. The sun was obscured by clouds but still shone through the wrinkles of white to shine happily on the travellers.

The drive was only an hour and when they arrived it was surprisingly quiet, only a few old couples were walking the edge of the lake and no one was swimming in the glistening lake.

"Wow," Raven exclaimed, "all to ourselves!" as she parked the truck in a clearing at the woods that surrounded the body of water.

Everyone hauled themselves and their stuff out, carrying picnic foods, blankets, a speaker and some beer. Technically you weren't meant to drink at the lake, but seeing how empty it was and knowing how lax the security was at this place, Octavia said there was no point in hiding it in the car. And Raven said she would accept driving responsibilities so that the rest could get plastered, "Within reason," she warned, "I will not be cleaning vomit out from my car,"

They found a picnic table and set themselves up, music hummed softly in the backdrop as the sun drenched their skin and the cool breeze swept over the water to give them goosebumps. It was only 10 minutes later that Bellamy egged Clarke on to go for a dip.

"Look, I'm just saying that I didn't think you would even think about swimming or bring a suit for that matter. Let alone go in first," he smirked, clearly looking for a reaction, "It's not your style,"

Clarke breathed in and raised her eyebrows, "I know what you're doing.."

"Doubt it will stop you."

"...so shut up and let me enjoy my day," she turned back on her seat to face Octavia who had her head cocked to the side, insinuating something with her eyes.

She clenched her jaw.

Bellamy scoffed, "Well, I guess I'll be the first one in then,"

Just like that Clarke was out of her seat, "No. See that changes things. I can't let you get the privilege of being first in the lake," she stepped towards him.

"Oooh," Monty drummed his hands against the bench, "Sounds like a competition,"

"Ha! Competition? Bellamy doesn't stand a chance," Clarke squared up to him, something which looks ridiculous when you take into account the height difference.

"Mhm, we'll see about that." Bellamy kept the bemused look on his face and it was starting to annoy Clarke, which he knew.

They both started to rip off their clothes down to their swimming costumes and raced towards the water. It was impossible to tell who splashed in before the other, but for good measure, Clarke dived in headfirst. Knowing that at least she would have that over Bellamy.

Under the water, Clarke could feel her ears adjust and take in the wallowing noises of the lake. Bubbles flitted past her cheek and nose from her mouth and they tickled her. It was moment of pure peace amongst all this noise. But the pull of the air lifted her back above water.

When she emerged she was breathless and looked at Bellamy who had the same shocked expression on his face, "Its fucking freezing!" She screamed and they both struggled to get out of the water. Almost choking while they swam and laughed at each other the whole time. 

Everyone else was on the ground, near tears, pointing at the two of them trip over each other to get back.

"That was hideous," Clarke still couldn't catch her breath.

"Terrible. Just awful," Bellamy was shaking from the cold as he wrapped his towel around him. Clarke realised something and groaned.

"What?" Monty tried to get back on his seat after falling off of it.

"I forgot a towel." Clarke stood dripping and suddenly not laughing anymore.

"Here," Bellamy reached into his bag and brought out another towel, "I brought a spare."

Octavia nudged Clarke as she pretended to walk past towards the car, "Oh, thanks Bell,"

He looked a little embarrassed as he handed the towel over and Clarke could feel everyone's eyes on them.

The towel was the opposite of soft but as Clarke wrapped it around herself she felt warmth spread throughout her body and breathed in the smell of Bellamy off of it. It was almost soothing.

Octavia spent most of the day trying to force Bellamy and Clarke to spend time together or to talk to Clarke alone and try to convince her to make a move.

After she had lectured Clarke about how she was throwing away her opportunity to get with a guy like Bellamy she halted and went red.

"Clarke why didn't you stop me? I feel like such an ass,"

"What?"

"Cage. I forgot about him."

Clarke's lips formed an oh. She had forgotten too. She had let her mind slip from her problems and allowed herself to he happy. A mistake.

"Sorry," Octavia grumbled abashedly and walked away. Clarke wanted to comfort her but didn't know how. She wanted to comfort herself and understand what she was going through, but nothing made sense. What words could describe how she felt?

Clarke followed Octavia back a little while later and sat down to eat with the rest. She was silent but no one noticed, how could they when Murphy was telling stories that caused everyone to burst out laughing? Or when Emori pushed Miller into the water off the little pier? There was too much to watch rather than focus on Clarke. So she let her mind drift away like a ripple on the lake her friends were skimming stones on.

"You doing okay?" Clarke turned her attention to Bellamy who stood in front of her with his arms crossed, "You seem to just be staring out into nothing."

It was true, she had turned her chair to face the woods, away from her too loud friends in the lake, and was looking out into the trees as if blind.

"Yeah, great. I'm just tired." She rubbed her eyes and looked at his chest instead of his eyes. It was easier to lie that way.

"Sure you are," Bellamy grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of her, "Lets get all therapist-y,"

Clarke snorted, "No offense but i'm not sure a guy that says "therapist-y" can help me solve my problems."

"Ah-ha!" He snapped his fingers, "Our first break through! I knew you had a problem-and you admitted it," he grinned brightly at his own joke and latched eyes with Clarke.

She sighed but smiled at him.

"Come on," he leant forward and put a hand on her leg, "I just want to help,"

"Okay." Clarke pulled herself up and fixed her posture, for a moment she hesitated on what to say. How to phrase the oh so delicate topic of her trauma. But then she just launched it, "If you know you're doing something stupid to save other people the hassle, is it justified?"

Bellamy squinted at her, "Elaborate,"

She presses her lips, "If you knew that although you are doing something kind of..." She searched for the words, "not healthy..."

"You mean like dangerous?"

"No!" Clarke nearly jumped out of her seat, she didn't need Bellamy becoming concerned for her. Unfortunately her quick and explosive reaction didn't help. Bellamy leant back on his chair and looked very confused, surprise leaked into his eyes that widened momentarily.

"No," she softened her tone, "Just maybe not the best decision, but it means that other people don't have to deal with it too. Does that make it okay?" She held her breath. Did she reveal too much? Maybe she should have just kept quiet, but God, Clarke cared about Bellamy's opinion more than her own. If anyone could reassure her, it would be him.

Bellamy nodded and leant forward again, "No."

"What?," her heartbeat started to quicken.

"Nope, never. You have to make the right decision for yourself sometimes. It isn't being selfish if you're protecting yourself from something that other people want to help with."

Clarke tried to find the words to argue with him but her mouth just hung slightly agape.

"Look, Clarke. There are always going to be reasons to be stupid and self-less. And I know i'm making a blanket statement here. The thing is that I know you. All you do is make good choices that are best for everyone. And if you are having doubts? Then whatever it is, isn't worth getting hurt over."

"Hurt? I'm not getting hurt." Clarke babbled out.

Bellamy looked at her sideways on, seemingly suspicious, "Clarke, I don't know what this is about. And you don't have to tell me...unless this is something scary. I feel like you're hiding from me."

She calmed her breathing and looked him in the eye, "It's not. I'm just anxious."

"Okay then," Bellamy straightened his back, it was obvious that he was not completely reassured but he moved past it quickly, "Knowing you, there's a simple solution that you're choosing to ignore."

Bellamy stood up and reached for Clarke's hand, "Sorted?"

And for once Clarke didn't lie, "Yep, thanks,"

She got up and headed to the car. Diving into her bag she pulled out her phone: 20 missed calls and 15 text messages. All from Cage.

She wet her lips and thought about what Bellamy said. Unlocking the phone, she went straight to her texts. Not even bothering to read them, she quickly composed a message that explained everything.

"Cage, I won't pretend what you did was okay. And I won't be silent about what you did unless you leave me alone. Transfer to TA a new class or a new school. If not I will tell the school board. I'm blocking your number so don't bother to message me."

After re-reading the message 5 times, Clarke finally hit send and breathed in deeply.

That was it. 

Her smile split her face and she walked back towards the rest of them. She would never tell him, but Bellamy was great at advice.

By 9pm everyone had enough. Hair was dried and jackets put on to hide from the cold that seeped into the air. They packed up after watching the sun set over the green shrubbery, golden water was glassy and softly lapped at the pier. Everything went a velvet shade of darkness quickly afterwards so they all had to stumble through the night towards the truck.

"Me and Emori are NOT in the back this time." Murphy called out and they sprinted ahead of everyone else to grab better seats.

"Care to join me?" Bellamy touched Clarke's arm and pointed at the backseat once he had her attention.

Something happened in her stomach, a feeling of freedom soared through her. Up from her mid-riff to her throat.

"If I have to," she joked.

The drive home seemed longer than the drive they snoozed as the truck trundled along and Raven played her own music through earphones as she drove. Softly singing to herself. But not everyone was asleep.

Bellamy and Clarke whispered to each other the entire car drive, they asked one another things you only ask friends late at night. When life seems so much simpler and the threat of embarrassment no longer pulls on your brain. They leant in close and stared into themselves. Heads so close that their breaths were felt on their necks. Hands half hazardly placed on each other's laps. But inside their hearts trembled as they notices each movement in more detail than normal. Their eyes focusing as if placing more importance on this moment that others. But soon the slow lull of the cars exhaust won out and Clarke let her head fall on his shoulder. He felt her body move with such hyper-sensitivity it was confusing. Like his body worked differently around her. And eventually he let himself slip away too. A deep slumber surrounding them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so here is another chapter that took FAR too long to produce. I quite like this one though, next chapter is where things get exciting and a bit scary. Please please please review. I'm not going to lie, i'm very concerned with the lack of interactions i have had through this story. Even if you hate it, let me know why :)


	5. The yacht

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group travel back to the lake in an attempt to mimic yesterday's happy atmosphere. But instead they get the yacht.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I got so much positive feedback on my last chapter. It made me so happy! So this chapter is for anyone who commented on the last one. You guys are the reason i'm still bothered to write this.

Clarke's tea hadn't gone cold, but it was far from warm. She was sat at her window holding the cup and feeling the heat evaporate through her fingertips but too distracted to care. Her mind only finding to time to worry about one thing.

Octavia went for her run 15 minutes ago and she had watched through the blinds as she gently jogged down the street and took a corner out of sight and mind. The extra time to herself left an empty feeling in her stomach.

To be honest, Clarke knew that she was in no way "over" what had happened; one text did not fix anything. And there was no use pretending she could hide behind the guise of confidence because it was so hard to summon the strength to do so. It was painful to even try. But yesterday had helped her regain some life. 

Bellamy had helped her.

Their conversations played on repeat in her head, eyes wandering over every glance and gesture, over analysing everything. Thinking that anything meant everything.

In her head, it seemed like a dream. Too perfect to actually exist in her reality.

But she had felt it. The hand on her thigh, the heat of his body projecting onto hers. Directly contrasting the cool night air that grasped her back from the foggy car windows.

Was it at all possible he was as hyper focused on that night too? Did it mean anything at all?

She gazed across the street to Bellamy's apartment window. It was opened a slit, letting the air breeze through and make the curtains float in an almost ethereal way.

Clarke let herself groan. Was she really romantasizing a window? And curtains? 

The sun was beating down powerfully. From the street below a smoky cloud of dust was rising and the warmth filled her face with a caramel glow.

Clarke looked at her mug a moment and decided it was time to clean it out, she doubted she was going to ever drink it.

But as she stood rinsing the cup, a knock came from the door. It was a single knock but Clarke heard it clearly echo through the flat.

She swung open the door and saw Bellamy standing with his hands on the back of his neck. He was restless and moving back and forward on the spot, a few small steps each time.

She was take aback, "Bell? What are you doing here?" She suddenly tightened her back and crossed her arms to cover her midriff. She was in a sports bra and jogger bottoms, not her typical outfit nor one she was comfortable in.

"Oh," he looked just as confused to see her as she was. His eyes looked behind her, desperate to see something, but they gave up and looked at her. His eyes traced her figure.

"Bellamy?" 

He blinked, "Oh. Yes. I want to talk to you," he nodded as if that explained it all.

Clarke wasn't quite as sure about that.

"Okay...come in?"

He stepped through the door and Clarke closed it while Bellamy started to pace the floor. He kept looking over at her and in all honesty, Clarke was feeling a little under pressure.

"Bell?"

He started to move through the apartment now, Clarke behind him by only a few feet. He never committed to a room, just skirted the hall.

"I was thinking," he started and turned to look at her. Seeing her face disarmed him. His face softened.

"Thinking?" She prompted.

He sighed deeply, "about yesterday...."

Clarke suddenly grasped what he meant, "Yesterday?"

"Yes," he pressed his lips, "About the Lake, and the trip in general," 

She stood in silence, not even nodding at him. She could barely hold a breath.

His mouth opened and he held her stare, but it never formed the sentence he wanted. Instead it moved onto another great excuse.

"We should do it again."

Her heart fell hard. Clarke hoped her face hadn't mimicked her feelings because it felt like being punched.

"Yeah," she shook her head and had to laugh at herself to stop her face scrunching up, "It was great,"

For a moment they just looked at each other, both knowing that they should say something more, both being unable to move from the other's gaze.

"What's going on here?" Clarke shifted her vision to Octavia, sweat glistening on her forehead but a smirk on her lips despite the laboured breath.

"Nothing," Bellamy replied, his nonchalant exterior an easy to coat to put back on, "We were just talking about how great yesterday was,"

Octavia forgot about what she had walked in on completely as she exploded into a long rant about the incredible day trip. As if they were not all there together.

While she took a break to breath, a thought came to Octavia.

"You know the weather is going to be even better today."

"Really?" Clarke was bored. She sat buttering her toast while pretending to listen to the non stop blabbering. Bellamy looked to be doing the same.

"Guys, what is there to stop us doing it all again today?"

"Again?" It wasn't a bad idea. I mean what reason was there not to go again? Especially since Clarke's class had no catch up work to do and for once she had her essay for the week finished early.

Octavia was getting annoyed at the lack of excitement, "Come on! Just head out again. Repeat the day! How often do you get that chance?"

Bellamy suddenly perked up, "You're right O," he smiled to himself, "Opportunities like this don't happen all the time."

Clarke was still nonplussed. She had been planning a depressing day of thinking whilst lying in bed. But it seems the universe just didn't want to let her lie and cry.

"Sounds good,"

Octavia called everyone and got a group together, slightly different from before. The group consisted of, Miller, Jackson, Lincoln, Raven, Shaw and Bellamy had finally managed to get Jasper out of bed. Including Octavia and Clarke, that was nine in total.

When Bellamy left to get ready, Clarke and Octavia were left to plan their outfits.

"It seems like there's all couples going today, you should invite Cage," O was looking in her mirror and putting some lipgloss on.

Clarke let it slip before thinking, "We broke up,"

Octavia's eyes widened and she spun around to march in front of her, a barely suppressed smile pulling on her lips, "What? When?"

"Yesterday, it just wasn't working out,"

"And it has nothing to do with my brother and you flirting all day? And with your hands all over each other on the way home?"

She scoffed, "God no," it was easier to say these things about him when he had just hurt her. But he hadn't meant to, she thought. Maybe she just read too much into everything. 

"Ha! Sure!"

With Octavia's words ringing in her ears, Clarke retreated back to her room. It was more of a challenge to choose an outfit today. There was so much to prove. To prove she didn't like Bellamy. To prove she wasn't predictable. To prove she had nothing to prove.

But everything fell flat.

There wasn't much to wear that could accomplish all that.

Her hands traced the clothes hanging in her wardrobe and the temptation to just say no to going out again was ripe. But then her fingers brushed on something she had not worn in months, a dress. It was a creamy off-white with straps. It landed mid thigh on her legs and the front was dipped just enough to show some cleavage. 

It wasn't that Clarke didn't like dresses nor did she have some superiority complex and think she was "not like other girls". But she was a full time medic student and an artist whenever she could spare a moment, so clothes were more practical than enhancing. And sometimes working like that can take a toll on your self esteem.

So she put on the dress.

Octavia, for once, didn't say anything about what she was wearing. Though that could be because of that fact everyone else was in the living room ready to go including Lincoln. Actually no one said anything about it. But their eyes gave away their surprise.

"All right lets go," Raven got up from under Shaw's arm, "All of you can fight over seats on the way to the truck," 

They all started towards the door, but suddenly Clarke felt a hand on her arm, Bellamy.

"Do you want to sit in the back again?" And then more abashedly, "You know, to give all the couples space?"

She tried to hold it in but couldn't stop the smile spreading from her lips like butter on hot toast.

Clarke and Bellamy sunk back into their usual conversation as they descended the stairs. Their hearts were both beating wildly and their breath was uneven, but neither could see it on the other's face while being certain is was clear on their own.

A loud ding interrupted them.

While reaching for her phone, she told Bellamy to go on and save her seat. He continued down the stairs with even more nerves than before. But Clarke's butterflies dropped dead as she saw a text from an unknown number.

"Don't ignore me,"

She knew who it was. There was no question. But she didn't have to respond, and why would she? So she stayed calm. There was no reason to be scared. No reason at all. She repeated the mantra in her head and blocked the new number.

Bellamy climbed into the car and struggled over bodies who yelped out at him as he accidentally kicked or stepped on them. It was only when he finally sat down in the back that he noticed he wasn't alone.

"Hey Bell," Jasper was leaning diagonal on his seat, eating a bag of crisps and grinning widely.

Bellamy cursed himself for inviting him, it wasn't Jasper's fault he was unwanted right now. Or that he was the biggest cock block known to man.

"Oh, hey Jasper," his voice was rough, Bellamy was never the best at hiding his thoughts.

"I'm glad you forced me to come, I can tell this is going to be a great trip,"

Clarke was secretly relieved when she saw that Jasper was in her seat. It was easier for everyone if she just used this time to process everything... And hopefully get over it.

Bellamy mouthed an "I'm sorry" to her which she just shrugged and shook her head as a reply. There was nothing to do about it. Bellamy looked a lot more put out.

They arrived to a much different scene than yesterday. A hum of people talking and children screaming filled the air. Swimmers splashed in the water, jet skis whirred past and the lifeguard patrolled the whole lake.

It wasn't a bad scene. But not what the travellers had expected, it was almost disappointing to not have the water to themselves.

Nevertheless, they set up their picnic blanket but decided to forego the speakers as at least 4 other groups were blasting their own music.

The sun was undoubtedly hotter than yesterday. The cool breeze no longer brought goosebumps but instead skimmed over beads of sweat. And no food they brought was cold besides the beer in the cooler back in the truck that now seemed too far away to be worth it.

They all ended up in the water, wallowing in the deep clear water. It was too much effort to mess about so they just floated at talked or walked aimlessly around, waist deep.

Clarke swam out deeper than the rest, head mimicked body. She tried to dive down and give herself a new task, a distraction. But no. So she tipped her body and lay on her back, not able to enjoy any of it.

Then the water around her pulled a new direction, she lifted her eyes and watched Bellamy swim towards her. Long graceful but strong stroked torpedoed him through the blue.

"Hey," was all she said when he finally arrived next to her.

He was out of breath but still smirked at her, "Trying to avoid me that much, huh?"

She smiled back, "No, just thinking,"

"Well stop it. You're on break right now, just relax and enjoy it."

"Easier said than done,"

"Is this about the thing you were telling me about yesterday?"

She looked away, "No, I told you that was all good now,"

Bellamy moved to float alongside her, "Nothing gets sorted out that easily or quickly,"

"You clearly don't know me," and to change the subject, she sunk under the water and pulled Bellamy down too. He spluttered in surprise when he rose back to the surface.

"Clarke, you're gonna regret that." He grabbed both elbows and lifted her half into the air before submerging her, she squealed and then launched herself at him. The two of them laughing and yelling at one another.

A large white yacht sailed past them close enough to scare them into swimming back to shore but not enough to ruin their mood.

Octavia walked down to them with towels, "So you don't have to steal Bell's this time," she said with a wink that left Clarke red.

And for a while that's all they did, they laughed and talked and sunbathed. But just as Clarke let her drowsy eyes fall into a sunlit nap she was shook awake by Octavia, "Look over there," she pointed to the edge of the treeline. Standing there, in a full suit, was Cage.

She was filled with pounding dread that sunk from her head to her chest, the reaction wasn't lost on Octavia who whispered, "Are you okay? Was it a messy break up?"

Break up.

That's right. They were broken up. He had no control over her.

"No. It's fine," she nodded to Octavia then summoned every ounce of courage im her body and waved at him. But regret pounced fast on her as he beckoned her over.

"I really don't want to talk to him right now,"

Bellamy was some distance away with Lincoln, who pointed out the scene for him. They both watched as Clarke lifted herself off the ground and walked over to Cage. They spoke quickly then both disappeared through the trees.

"Wonder what that's about," Lincoln returned to the football he was kicking before, "I thought O said they broke up yesterday,"

"What?" Bellamy couldn't keep the pure surprise out of his voice. And he began to think to himself if Clarke was as obsessed with yesterday's events as he was.

Cage had only said one thing to Clarke and that was to wait until they got somewhere private to talk. After that it was nothing but silence and her walking directly behind him. Her throat already felt worn out from screaming at herself inwardly. This was ridiculously dangerous, she knew what he was like. But the thought of him coming over to her and her friends, possibly revealing something, simply outweighed her fears.

He lead her to the edge of the water where the yacht from before was docked. 

"Go on," his voice was gruff and cold. He seemed unbothered but Clarke could sense tension.

"This is yours?" She tried to lighten the mood, "You must have seen me in the water earlier, I swear it was this one that went past...." Clarke paused at his silence and refusal to take her conversation on.

"Cage... I don't know about this,"

He sighed, "I just want to talk. So lets go in here, where it's private, to sort out how things will be after all this."

She sucked her teeth. There wasn't much choice.

The yacht moved gently under her feet, swaying and sloshing below.

"Over there," he pointed out the ladder that dipped below deck, "It leads to the living room,"

She gingerly started down the steps, looking down and watching her legs move from one rung to the next. But then she felt a weight hit her chest hard. Cage followed her down, looking down at her fall from where he kicked her chest. 

Her head hit hard off the floor, her chin and cheekbone were grazed. But the shock and impact and left Clarke dizzy and eyes unable to focus.

"You bastard," she mumbled through her fat lip.

He jumped down the rest of the steps.

"I'm the bastard am I?" He prowled over to her as she lifted her head up, "Am I the one who lead you on and ghosted you out of nowhere?"

He started to circle her now, "Or threaten your career. Your future! For no reason?"

"You know the reason perfectly well," she spat at him, it was getting harder and harder to focus on what she was saying and the ground that seemed to be constantly moving was not helping. She wondered if it was a concussion and felt hot blood drip down her chin from God knows where.

"Do I?" He knelt down beside her, "Get up and talk to me!" He grabbed her shoulders and lifted her up roughly.

"Look at me when you say shit like that!" Clarke refused to meet his gaze, so instead he groaned a low rumbling sound and smacked her up the side of the head. 

The strike caused tears to well up in her eyes, the fear finally leaking through this persona she tried to present. The tears started to spill and she looked into his eyes.

He grabbed her face in his hand and tried to caress it but it felt like being prodded with the end of a knife. He leant into her ear and whispered, "Just apologise,"

What.

"Go on, say you're sorry," his voice was softer now but still tough as old boots in her ear and the lies harder than concrete.

"What?" Was her breathless reply. And it clearly was not the right one. His hands pressed down even harder on her chin, the blood of which was trickling through his fingers.

"You aren't sorry?" Cage was more confused than she was, "You whore!"

He used all his power to shove her back on the ground, but this time she caught off his corner table and ripped through her arm as she fell. The cry of agony was almost as painful to hear as it was to experience but it fell on deaf ears.

"You tease me, dump me, then parade your new fling in front of me like it's nothing. I bet this is what you do, this is how you get off."

He leaned over her. Clarke writhed on the floor in a pool of her won blood and soon to be diluted with tears.

"You need to learn some respect," the sound of unbuckling trousers sent Clarke yelling for help and the crying to get even heavier, but she couldn't get him off her. Especially not when his hands closed around her neck and sent her gasping for air. 

But this time the pain was so much worse, and not just because she was injured this time, or that she knew it was going further than before. But because he whispered into her ear each time he heaved. And he never relented his grip around her throat.

When he climbed off her, she couldn't move except to cry. To pull her hands up to her eyes and try and hide like a child from him.

"You know what to say now,"

For a moment it was silent apart from her haggard breathing. The last of her bravery hung in the air like a pinata to be smashed down.

"I'm so sorry," she wheezed out, "I'm sorry,"

"Perfect," he smiled to himself and grabbed her phone out of her pocket as he leaned down to look at her. He had noticed it making noises throughout the ordeal.

"What's your pin?" 

Clarke's tears were no longer falling but her shoulders were still seizing in sob-like motions. She struggled out the number and Cage unlocked it.

"I'm just letting your friends know that you are getting a lift home with your boyfriend. So no need go worry, or wait up"


	6. Where did she go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's friends have no idea what she went through on the yacht nor do they know where she is. Bellamy is agitated and worried while Clarke tries to figure out how to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry that this chapter is so late. I had major writers block and it was the last week of school for me so I had so many projects to finish. Anyway, here it is :) please enjoy and let me know if you like it.

The dark night had cast a velvet shroud over the sky and it's drooping edges left no room even for starlight. The blaring lights of Raven's truck deepened the black hues and made the rolling roads feel endless. The neverending paths were made so much longer by groans of misfortune erupting from Bellamy's mouth.

"She could have at least called, but no, she leaves us one text," his voice was breathy from becoming so invigorated with his passionate speech, "One! We had all sent about 10 messages each asking where she was. And I don't even know how many times we tried to call her! It's just so out of character,"

Raven nodded in agreement but her mind preferred to reflect on other things, things that someone hasn't been yelling about for half an hour. Every once in a while she has finally managed to block him out but then an aggressive sigh or him hitting the car door will jolt her awake.

As he started another spiel with wild hand gestures as though he was a puppet that's master was having a stroke, Raven started to think for herself. Obviously, she was worried about Clarke and she did agree with Bellamy that Clarke wouldn't just abandon them usually. But her worry came from a place of friendship. A place of "I hope she's okay and she probably is,". His came from somewhere else. More like a, "If she isn't okay I might kill someone and/or myself."

She glanced over at him. He was feverishly starring out the car window, shoulders haunched and deep breathing making him seem like he was pulsing.

She rolled her eyes and asked for strength before opening her mouth, "Bell, you can't be worried and do nothing about it. That's hypocritical...and stupid," she added.

His head flung around so fast she thought it would go flying like a bowling ball projectile.

He scoffed, "What do you mean, "Do nothing," if i did something then that would be the stupid thing to do,"

Raven just shrugged at returned to the road. But Bellamy was vexed. He wanted to know more.

"No no no! You can't just say that. I'm not a hypocrite. I'm NOT a hypocrite. I'm NOT-"  
.  
Raven turned abruptly. He caught his eye which told him to shut up.

"Okay," she sighed, "We all know you are Mr. Hot headed, right?"

Bellamy started to defend himself when Octavia shouted in from behind, "YES,"

Bellamy reserved himself again.

"And that you want to protect us all. Sometimes it's sweet and other times it's weird. And we all know you do this under the guise of "big brother," to Octavia and to us all."

There was some sleepy murmuring from the back seat. Bellamy started to go red.

"But everyone notices differences with how you act to us..." She gestured around the car, "and with Clarke,"

Octavia laughed heartily and clapped her hands together, "It's true. Everyone knows,"

Bellamy rubbed his temple, "That's not true. You guys-"

Raven shushed him which got another chuckle from Octavia.

"We all want you guys together. You both have god awful taste in partners but you seem to have a connection to one another. So I say go for it,"

"Yes!" Octavia was bouncing in her seat, almost walking Lincoln who was napping beside her, "I'm gonna text Emori right now!"

"Wait! This isn't fair." Bellamy fought for the words to defend himself, "Clarke and I are just-," he caught the dubious looks from Raven and stifled it.

"Even if i did," he continued quietly, "She's with Cage,"

"She isn't though," Octavia pulled herself forward to be between the two front seats and ignored Raven's pleas to put her seatbelt back on.

"She is,"

"She told me they broke up yesterday this morning when we were getting ready. She said it wasn't working out and she just seemed so lost when she was with him so i'm not surprised."

"Then explain the text,"

"Okay, maybe Clarke got weak again for a moment. But I guarantee that she will break up with him again tomorrow. He must have begged for her back and she didn't want to fight. But all I do know is-" she suddenly cut off.

"Give me your Phone right now,"

He leaned over and brought it out of his pocket. Octavia quickly brought up the text.

"Yeah that's what I thought," she gave it back to Bellamy, "Look, she says there boyfriend. She has never once called him her boyfriend. Didn't want to put labels on it or something,"

"So what?" Raven was trying to drive straight and still keep up with them.

"So... Why would they jump from broken up to boyfriend and girlfriend. It's weird."

Bellamy nodded but seemed unbelieving still.

"Look, Bell, I'm not saying anything like that she's gonna jump into your arms and confess her love or something. But she deserves to know how you feel before she commits to Cage,"

"Exactly," Raven continues for Octavia, "You should make sure she's doing okay, cause she seems a bit off right now, and make everything better. We all know her relationship with Cage is questionable, and she should be with someone like you instead."

Bellamy processed it all. He felt a surge of anxiety but also determination. Even if it changes nothing, he needs Clarke to know how he feels. How he thinks she might feel.

Raven and Octavia laughed at his concentrated face, "We'll take that as a yes then,"

Clarke pressed her hands to her forehead again. She traced the lines of split skin and hardened blood. Was it the trauma of the situation or the concussion that was making her this lightheaded? 

She was still in the lower deck of the boat, Cage had left her there to "cool off", as though they had just had a lukewarm argument. She didn't want to think about it. The stress made her head throb even more. The anger that rose from her throat offered nothing more than tears at this moment. She felt the leather if the sofa stick to her leg. She wondered vaguely if it was sweat or blood that wet her thighs.

The thought of a shower was heavenly. But to be caught doing something she hadn't asked to do yet was pulse quickening.

Speaking of what she wasn't supposed to do; Clarke inspected her legs and saw that there was blood on them. It had caked over but was still watery in places and left crimson smears like childrens fingertips all over his tacky sofa.

Clarke didn't bother to check where the blood was coming from, but it most likely it dripped from her upper arm that now seemed more like a pocket than a cut. Or it could be running down her legs. But Clarke was trying to forget about that.

She got up and found some kitchen roll to use to clean up and got to work, there was some comfort in scrubbing her own blood off. It felt eerily like cleaning up a murder scene, Clarke thought to herself. Though if she didn't play her cards right with Cage then in the future it might be.

It dawned on her that she never tried the yacht's hatch, could he trust her enough to leave it open? But the sunrise of possibilities quickly set when Clarke realised that the the probability of Cage leaving the door open was slim and even of it was open... Would she bother?

She can barely move, let alone run away. And run where? Her friends are gone. He has her phone. She's on a boat! In the middle of a lake!

Even if the escape plan was flawless, she wouldn't either. Because her friend's don't need to know. They would probably get really angry. Or disappointed in her. She let this happen. Twice. She has no one else to blame for herself.

She dumped the paper and washed her hands in the sink, diluted blood flowing like a sick cranberry juice off her fingers. There was so much that Clarke could taste the metal in the air. It felt like a knife being dragged along her tongue.

She heard his steps and glanced through a mirror to watch him descend the ladder. He jumped the last few and turned with a pointed grin. It stabbed her heart.

"Hey baby, you feeling better?"

Was he seriously doing this? Was he pretending this was okay?

She looked away from him but he didn't stop. He walked over to her and dragged her by the waist to the cleaned sofa and sat opposite to her. She wishes she had the fearlessness even to stare daggers at him. But she can just about manage to miss his gaze.

"I want to apologise." 

Her neck snapped to his face. What?

"I should never have laid a hand on you," he looked genuinely guilty.

Her mind was running a marathon, but being lapped by everyone else. Was he actually sorry?

"It doesn't matter how you behave or how irrational you are being, I never should have slapped you."

Oh

The slap. That was it. And it was still her fault. In his eyes she egged him on.

The thought of him only seeing problem with that alone made her eyes start to sting and clouds thickened around them.

"Hey! Hey! It's okay!" Cage rushed to her side and started to brush the tears off her face then placed a trail of kisses down where they were. Seemingly oblivious to how it made the flow heavier.

Cage took Clarke back to his place. He said he insisted on "taking care," of her. He gave her some food that she ate silently and took her to bed. She sat on the edge of it. Unwilling to fight him nor get in. He undressed her himself into her underwear and put her under the covers. It all felt too surreal.

She couldn't sleep. How could she. When he was beside her. His mass under the covers so close that his hot breath punched the back of her neck. His breath heavy. If she closed her eyes Cage was on top of her once more. His duvet more like a concrete block weighing her to the bed. Trapping her.

Whether she slept or not, she woke up to Cage buttoning up his shirt. Back was still wet from the shower and wet patches like sweat stains bloomed through the cloth.

She wasn't stupid. He wouldn't let her go to school today. She wasn't going to be given even a chance to run away. Or to show the world her damaged face. Broken soul.

She lay silently watching him dress, everything was so blurry. Her body was sinking underwater and the air was too thick to breath.

He turned and saw her face dull sunken into the pillow. Too tired to even pretend she wasn't watching him. He smiled broadly at her.

His hands rested on her side as he sat down next to her and kissed her cheek.

"I thought you should take a day off today," his hands brushed her face and she kept her yells inside, "You deserve a pamper day,"

Of course she didn't argue. Not with him. Never again.

Bellamy poured his 2nd cup of coffee and stared out the window at the city which was mottled and melted from the pouring rain and it brought a cold chill to his face.

He didn't sleep last night. At all. 

He just tried to read but instead found himself dreaming, imagining how she would react to his confession.

Surprise? Would she even be angry? Whatever happened after would change their relationship and how it functions regardless of if their feelings were mutual. He was altering their future.

But he couldn't be persuaded to stop. 

He was reminded of his stubbornness as the cold jet stream of rain hit his jacketless body. Maybe it was ridiculous. But who really cares right now?

Checking the rain spackled watch on his wrist he realised he was late for class. It was hard to be stressed about that when he was already consumed by all the possibilities of this talk. When he got to Clarke's apartment, he would finally tell her. 

Maybe it was the rain flooding his face that blocked his vision or his leaking thoughts but he ran straight into Octavia who was rushing from her apartment door.

"Octavia?" He had to yell through the racket.

"Bellamy! I'm going to class. You should be in Uni by now!" She pulled him through the rain to the small shelter outside her door.

"I wanted to see Clarke,"

Octavia's face sunk.

"What?" He felt his chest tighten and his head got airy.

"She never came home last night. I can't get through to her phone. I don't know what to do."

He breathed in deeply, "Well, you could have started by calling me."

She looked away, "I didn't think," but then Octavia shook her head, "She stayed the night at Cages. That's all I know," 

He could feel his pulse throbbing through his head, "And how do you know that, huh?"

She snapped at him, finger pointed jaggedly at him, "Because I have common sense! Just because i'm not raving mad about her being gone doesn't mean I don't care! At least I don't let my concern cloud my judgement."

Bellamy stood strong and refused to budge on his side so Octavia just sighed and left after saying, "I'm leaving class early to see her out of her last class. When she gets back we'll talk to her."

Clarke was now having her 3rd shower of the day. There was no hot water left but the cold stream numbed her body better than any pain killer. 

She still couldn't find her phone. 

There was scarily little in the apartment. No money left anywhere. No DVDs, no CDs and as far as she could see his tv didn't even have channels. It's like he doesn't even live here.

She refused to wear any of his clothes. Even though putting on her dress from last night felt uncomfortable, she ruled that it would be less of a punishment to put it back on than his shirts. Or to just wear a towel all day.

Octavia had barely concocted a half assed excuse to get out of class but still managed to squeeze out 10 minutes early and ran to Clarke's classroom. It was still being taught when she arrived and by peaking through the door she caught sight of Cage. 

She thought of how much shit she would give Clarke and how worried they all were. And maybe when she ended her rants she would start to ease her into Bellamy's confession. Not tell her. But sow the seeds.

The door clicked open and Octavia stood up straight. She wrapped her arms around themselves and put on her best disappointed mother face. 

The crowd battled each other out the door and cascaded through. It was only when the last trickled through that Octavia realised Clarke wasn't there. Had she walked past? No. She couldn't have. 

Her head started to flutter. Bellamy was right to be worried. She was flustered and waved her hands around trying to calm herself down. But only when she spotted Cage through the crowd dispersing did she stop.

"Cage! Mr Wallace!" She yelled. People turned and looked. So did Cage, but he didn't stare. He saw her and walked away even faster.

She couldn't wrestle the crowd and instead had to watch him walk away, now it looked like running.

Her breath was scarily close to causing tears, so she did the only thing she could remember to.

Bellamy's phone rang as his professor was explaining some ancient torture device used on women to silence them and humiliate them as they were paraded through town wearing a large metal brace around their face that kept their mouths shut.

He excused himself from the room and his teachers angry stares.

"Octavia? What the hell-"

She was crying now, "Bellamy I can't find her. She's gone,"

His face turned to stone, "Clarke?" He whispered.

"She wasn't in class. And Cage ran away from me when I tried to ask him-" she had to stifle a sob, "Bell, I think she's in real trouble."

He was stunned into silence and Octavia continued, "I must have tried to call her 20 times and there's no response. I've even called back at the apartment to see if she was there but nothing. I've texted everyone and not one person has-"

"Meet me out the front of the school now, we're going to go get her," he hung up and walked away without going back for his books. The only thing that mattered now was Clarke. And that he was going to fucking kill Cage.


	7. Bloody steak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for Clarke continues, but unfortunately the group's efforts result in more suffering for Clarke when Cage starts to feel threatened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am going away from monday for a week and a half camping! The issue is I don't know how bad my wifi will be... I'm hoping that there will be no need for this warning but just in case, if the story goes on a quick hiatus this is why :)

Clarke stared at the glass of wine opposite to her. It was beside Cage and a deep velvet red that left little rings of colour on the glass as it shook. 

The reason it was shaking? Cage was eating his steak so viciously that the whole table was shifting with his cutlery movements.

He dragged his knife through the succulent steak aggressively. The haggard movements were so uncontrolled that the meat was being grinded to a mince rather than be chopped into slices. Blood was sliding between each cut and dripped onto the plate, a puddle of flavoursome blood collecting at the base. 

Clarke looked blankly at the pond of off-red juice and her mind was cast back to her scrubbing caked blood off herself yesterday. The way the blood seemed watery but still felt terrifyingly dense.

"Why aren't you eating?" Spittle and chewed up meat slathered his lower lips.

She felt the need to gag.

"I'm a vegetarian-"

"For fuck sake!" He slammed his fist into the table and she immediately regretted her lie.

"But it's fine!" She sliced her meat quickly and chewed it like a rubber while trying to convey gratefulness through her eyes.

"For God's sake Clarke! I'm not a mind reader! Fucking tell me these things! And don't play the victim when this is your own fault!"

She nodded along. Hands under the table clenched tight like penguins in the cold.

Cage's face was contorted with anger. He kept pushing his hair back.

"Clarke! Say something!" He got out of his seat and pointed to her. The act was enough to make her flinch.

He felt his fury steam his brain and bring a weird ache in his shoulders, "You scared of me? You bitch. You trying to make me feel bad by faking fear! Has to be the lowest thing anyone has ever done."

Tears were pushing to escape. But she was genuinely confused. Where was this coming from?

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Her voice was so soft that Cage's breathing was enough to block it.

He inhaled deeply and the deep creases in his head dug further into his skin before smoothening quickly. His smile emerged from the depths of his anger like a fish from a dark sea.

"It's okay, Clarke. I forgive you," she didn't think to respond. She was picking up on how to keep him happy. Silence and nodding helps to avoid his mood swings.

He got comfortable on his seat again, "Now, is there anything you want? Anything at all? I want you to feel happy here."

My phone back. My phone back. Let me call my friends. Please.

She shook her head.

His eyes twinkled menacingly, "Oh come on. I can see you need something,"

It was a bad idea. But if this is how he was apologising for exploding on her, then maybe this is the best chance she would ever get.

She cleared her throat and put on her best meek face, "Could I have my phone? To call my friends?" She carefully avoided names, especially Bellamy.

But her efforts were pointless.

He formed a fist after dragging his nails against the wood of the table towards his palms. Then clenching down on side of his plate, he thew it across the room. After the first plate smashed he started picking everything up and swinging them around. He didn't look where they landed nor if they broke. And he hadn't made a single noise himself through it all.

Clarke's heart was so scared that it no longer beat fast, the quickening pace and now slowed terrifyingly, at leat that's how it felt, each pump of blood sending seismic shockwaves through her body and streaming tears down her face.

Once the last plate was broken he turned to face her, "You think you need them?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, "You think they care about you more than me? I love you more than they do! Why can't you appreciate me?!"

She was rigid, doll-like stare anywhere but his face.

"Damn it! Look at me!" He quickly flipped the empty table. She didn't even realise she had gotten up and was backing away until he started stalking her.

"Clarke, I love you." His hands were raised towards her.

"Please leave me alone," she choked.

"Why am I not enough?" He had tears streaming now too, but the flow stopped once he resolved: "You need to be taught that I am the only one who will love you like this."

She tried to rush to the door but he caught her hair and yanked her into his chest. She kept struggling but after five minutes of coughing and wheezing she relaxed into the embrace.

It wasn't until Cage released his strangling grip on her throat that he saw she had not settled down but passed out. And the fountain of blood that dripped from her nose past her gaping mouth coated his hands.

Bellamy slammed the door of the police station shut behind him, Octavia sprinted to keep up with him and had just caught up when he stopped and turned back to face the building.

"Bastards!" He yelled and gave them the finger, no one saw through the brick wall to his little outburst but it let him deflate at least a little.

"Okay, okay," Octavia ran her hand through her hair which was straggly from the rain, "They were no use, that's fine. We can find another solution,"

Once the police had been given the whole story they asked the two to leave. They said that Clarke was a grown woman who was not missing, just bad at responding to her friends with over active imaginations. They refused to even take her information because it was a "waste of time."

"How?" He sounded on the verge of a breakdown.

Octavia was scared. First she had to protect Clarke- and failed. Now she has to comfort her older brother when she feels like she's going to collapse.

"All we need is his address. The school will have that."

Bellamy nodded and put his arm around her shoulder, "Let's go," 

The ease he felt was short lived. The school did have Cage's information, including his address. But they refused to give it to a bunch of students who they were sure would just try and pull pranks on them.

Emori and Murphy had joined them on the way over. Murphy was yelling at the receptionist in the college informations building when Octavia and Bellamy had walked in. Emori was normally the one to pull him back from behaving like this but she was by his side shouting as well, clearly tear stained face made the receptionist unwilling to retaliate. But he refused to give them anything.

"Thanks for the help anyway, guys," Bellamy hid his emotion under his gruff voice.

"It wasn't good enough though was it?" Murphy kicked the wall as they stood watching the rain.

"Look it isn't over yet." Emori was leaning on Octavia's shoulders. She looked defeated but her voice was strong, "We will find her. Even if we have to wait for him to leave school tomorrow and stalk him home."

"We can't leave her there one more night." 

Everyone looked at Bellamy. His eyes were closed and arms were crossed. It was clear where he had placed the blame.

"Guys?" A voice called out from the deafening rumble of rain.

"Who is that?" 

Raven came into view. She ran towards them underneath a flimsy umbrella. Droplets of rain swept down her face.

"What are you all doing here?" She was out of breath.

Murphy explained, "Clarke still hasn't come home." 

"Oh," 

There was silence for a moment.

"So you were trying to find Cage?"

They nodded.

"Well, I'm just back from tutoring from Sinclair. He's pretty important in the school and we're close. I bet he's still in the study hall and could get us some information,"

The idea hung in the air for no more than a second before they all rushed into the storm.

Raven didn't even say hello, she immediately launched into the story and what they needed. Sinclair didn't seem surprised, he looked used to Raven's character.  
But upon hearing of Clarke going missing, his face grew stiff and dark.

"I can get you his address. It might take a moment but I can do it from my laptop,"

He quickly started typing away, but Bellamy was a cynic by nature.

"Why are you so willing to help us?"

The clacking keyboard slowed and Sinclair sheepishly admitted, "I went to school with him. I know what he does."

That wasn't enough to sate them. So he explained further.

They had both gone to the same university, different degrees but same halls. They weren't friends but still went drinking or clubbing together. Sinclair's girlfriend at the time had complained once or twice about Cage making an inappropriate comment, he had noted it but it wasn't significant enough to really bring up.

Then the tours had started; teenagers flooding in the school gates eager to see if this was going to become their home. Sinclair was walking back to his room when he caught Cage talking to a girl. She didn't look old enough to be talking to a grown man alone, and he later found out that girl was only 16. He had his hands on his upper thigh and she kept brushing them away but he persisted. 

Sinclair went over and made an excuse to take Cage away but never forgot the look on his face. It was hungry. And his lips were in a jagged smile he had never seen before.

After that he kept his distance. Not wanting to ever be associated with Cage again. He was proven to have good judgement when Cage was forced to leave the school over a rape allegation.

"That's why I fought so hard for the school to not accept him as a TA. But no one listened. They said it was just an allegation and it was never proven."

They were waiting for the laptop to load up the information and the room was silent except for the whirr if the machine.

Emori was crying silently into Murphy's shoulder and everyone else was too stunned to even react.

"This all could have been prevented," was all Raven could say.

"It's too late now, but I have the address here. I think you should all go now,"

Bellamy sprang to the laptop and photographed the screen. He jogged out of the room, not bothering to look back and see if anyone else was following. But they were.

Clarke's eyes refused to adjust to the dark. Instead they turned the shadows into monsters with glee. She was in bed and in her underwear again. Cage was sleeping beside her again. The thoughts were rabid in her head again. Again. Again. Again. 

Did the day really happen? 

Her crushed windpipe told her it had.

Clarke couldn't cry. She wanted to, desperately. The release of tears would make her feel better, she thought. Or at least exhaust her so she could sleep.

But maybe her body was too broken to even sob.

Even turning over in bed was too terrifying a thought. If he was awake beside her, maybe he would be lying there waiting for her to stir. So he could grab her neck again.

Being strangled had to be the most horrific thing she had ever experienced. The gasping and wild body movements that stopped being voluntary once her lips turned blue. 

Was she going to be sick?

The thought was coming close to reality when she was rudely interrupted.

The doorbell.

And Cage woke up with a groan


	8. I don't understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group compose a plot to find Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel awful for not posting for so long. But I have been away and feeling shit in general for a while. some things in my life are going off course and I might have done something ridiculously stupid. But i finished this chapter so thank god for that.

The night had turned from torrential rain, creating a white noise that cast a blanket over them and muffled all sounds, to damp cold air and puddles of water pooling in every corner. The night lights reflected off of them in the dark and so now the whole world had a filter of a dirty orange tint.

Emori exhaled. Dragons breath from the cold. She wondered to herself if this really was only a few days since the scorching trip to the lake. It feels like years.

She was part of a circle of her friends. They were standing just a block away from Cage's apartment. 

Bellamy was going over what they all knew, not a lot, but enough.

They hoped.

Her eyes fell on Bellamy. He wasn't openly weeping or screaming or punching, all things that people in this position would be expected to do, and for Bellamy especially the last one. 

But she knew him. Out of everyone, they were an unlikely pair to see around together. They were in a group of people together from similar choice in friends rather than choosing each other. But she was still protective of him. And it was the little things that he did, glancing around the circle a touch too much, moving his hands whilst he spoke unnaturally and always reverting back to arms crossed over his chest when the attention was not on him.

Emori knew he was staying calm for them. He was the oldest. The father. But she knew his brain was frantically moving from worst case scenario to another. She herself would never admit that part of her thought Clarke was dead. But Bellamy was going to lose his mind if he let it wander anymore.

She finally let her focus fall back onto the plan.

"Murphy, are you sure you can do it?" Bellamy had his hand on Murphy's shoulder. 

Murphy's jaw was clenched and his posture rigid, "Yes." 

Bellamy nodded, "Good."

He turned to Emori and Raven, "Did you get the stones?"

They both patted their heavy pockets and nodded.

"Okay, lets go,"

Bellamy knew that this plan was not one of a genius. But Raven, for once, couldn't come up with anything better. And the overall feel was, "Although this is technically illegal lets try and keep the criminal activity to a minimum," and just roll with that.

Clarke watched Cage groan and hit his pillow in annoyance. At first he seemed to try and ignore the knock but then it continued urgently and he threw himself out of bed with a murderous anger.

She waited until he left the room and then sat up. Her body screamed at her to just lie down again. Pain shot through her joints and even now she could feel the dried blood on her face cracking and flaking. But she couldn't bring herself to sink back into bed. 

And then she heard a tap.

Raven and Emori were rhythmically throwing their stones at the window they hoped was the bedroom's.  
It was difficult to gauge how hard to throw it that it doesn't break the glass but so it also meets target.

The first hit made them both sharply inhale. How did the whole world not hear the racket? But a few moments past and the shock wore off. So they risked another.

Her feet hit the cold ground and she tried to ignore the way her leg swayed under her body pressure. In the back of her mind she heard the front door swing open.

The window sparked again.

She stumbled towards the curtains and let her eyes attempt to adjust to the dark. She wondered if her freshly bloomed black eye was making it harder. The cold air sent goosebumps trickling down her bare arms and legs. She vaguely remembered that she was only in her underwear.

Murphy's fist tapped a pattern on the door and he stretched his back. 

Did he love the idea of talking to Cage? No.

But he was scared of heights and refused to let either Raven or Emori near Cage. Maybe it was a tad dramatic but Bellamy agreed. 

He could hear the footsteps behind the door and right before it swung open and he had to extinguish his fury, he imagined if this had of been Emori. And if Bellamy's is the same kind of anger he would have been indulging. Murphy isn't a gossip, nor is he a theorist, but when your girlfriend is then it's hard to not speculate from time to time.

"Hello, sir!" He took some joy in Cage's wincing at his loud voice.

"Please, be quiet," his eyes were bleary and hair dishevelled.

Murphy faked enthusiasm, "Oh! I'm sorry! Do you have someone sleeping in there? A girlfriend or something....."

"Can I help you?" he growled.

"Emori! Stop!" Raven pushed the girl's hand down and pointed upwards, "Is that her?"

The curtain at the window they were pelting seemed to project a shadow through it. The dark was still thick but seemed more prominent around the edge of something moving closer.

And closer.

closer. 

Then it stopped.

Clarke heard murmuring voices. Was someone trying to sell them something? At this time? 

Her mind seemed to fizz and pop but she still clung tight to the edge of the wall and slowly moved towards the noise.

Finding herself at the bedroom door, she found herself too scared to open it, she just glanced through the small opening he left when he went and peered down the hall. 

It stretched on but her eyes ultimately fell on something that could have set her off crying again.

Was that Murphy?

Breathing grew more frantic now but she fought to keep it quiet. 

Why was Murphy here? She backed away from the door. 

Did he know about Cage? How could he? Were the other's here too? 

The others.

She raced to the window and threw the curtains back.

The gasp left her lips before she could stop it. 

Raven's fingertips never left Clarke's shadow. Not even when it morphed into a hallowed out figure. Not when her eyes traced every bruise and scrape on her body and lifted up to her face where she was sure her shocked face must match Clarke's. Because nothing else was recognisable. 

Emori let out a shaky breath but smiled at her. Then pointed to just below the window.

Clarke's eyes started to water. Her head was suddenly silent and the whole world stood still. Then the wave hit her.

She tried to keep upright and contain her gag. She felt such anxiety it made her dizzy. Didn't she want this? But the sudden embarrassment turned her stomach. This wasn't fair. She was never supposed to be the one that needed saving. No one who knew Clarke could say she was a damsel. Even in distress she quietly dealt with it herself, asking for help made her feel so weak she couldn't bear it. 

This kind of weakness was incomprehensible.

She realised she was starring at them with a gaping mouth. 

Oh God. Clarke watched as they took her in. Raven grimaced. And Emori tried to smile. She was grateful that Emori had at least tried to not look at her like she was damaged.

She swallowed and thought to herself that she can't hide the fact that she was. She was damaged.

Emori pointed to Clarke's feet. She looked down below the windowsill. Directly to Bellamy who stared up at her.

Murphy laughed at him and feigned disappointment, "Sir? You don't remember?"

Cage grew more agitated by the second.

"You were supposed to talk to me about transferring to your TA class?" Murphy pretended to be hurt.

"What?"

"You don't remember? It was a few weeks ago at the water fountain? You said drop by anytime?"

Cage waved his hands to shut him up, "Look I don't remember saying that and why would you come at this time....."

"You said anytime..." He mumbled.

"RIGHT!" he snapped, "Fine! Lets talk!"

"Wonderful!" Murphy rubbed his hands together.

Clarke felt the world stop again. Her mouth ran dry and her chest tightened and squeezed her heart.

Then she opened the window, "Bellamy?" her voice was barely there. A croak. A hollow whistle in the wind.

Bellamy didn't know what he was going to feel once he saw her again. He didn't really know if he ever would. Part of him was curious as to why he didn't want to climb in himself and put Cage in a coma. He could feel the anger coming. But it was in the distance. The wave wouldn't even begin to crest until he got her somewhere safe. That's all he wanted to do. Put as much distance between Clarke and this situation as possible. 

"We need to go, okay?" he whispered.

"Okay"

It had been pure luck that Cage lived on one of the lower floors of the building. So Bellamy only had to climb 15ft. In retrospect, Bellamy now realised the stupidity of the plan. As if the climb had of been any higher it didn't matter how difficult he found it, how the hell would Clarke have managed it?

"So you want to transfer to my class that I'm TAing?"

"Very much so," He rocked up and down on his heels in excitement.

"From what?"

Now, Murphy was not in University. He had taken the dive straight from high school to work for a friend's nightclub. Initially he had taken it just to pay the bills. But later found he had a knack for business and scaring off creepy guys for girls, that's how he met Emori. His friend was even talking about Co-ownership. But that's also why he was stumped at this simple question.

"Does it matter?" he deflected.

"What." Cage rubbed his forehead, "Of course it matters! Do have the qualifications for the course?"

Murphy coughed, "I'm doing business studies right now..."

"And how the hell does a business major change to medicine?"

Murphy opened his mouth to comment and never closed it.

Clarke stepped out the window, it was one of the long pretentious ones that people spent too much money on window washing for. There were small little sills at the bottom of each one which Bellamy had used to climb. She perched on it.

"Okay, don't freak out-"

"I won't"

He suppressed a smile. Even now she was stubborn.

She slowly lowered herself down to him. The vulnerability of being in her underwear made her more nervous than the heights.

"Simple," she murmured after finding her footing.

They only had to repeat the process once more. Bellamy going first, just in case, until they were on the ground.

Emori ran over and wrapped her arms around her. Barely suppressing a squeal but not at all stopping the tears. Raven quickly followed suit. 

"I missed you so much," she said into Clarke's hair. She pulled off her coat and let Clarke cover herself.

Bellamy watched over them. He refused to let his guard down or his emotions rise.

Clarke was the same. She pulled away and turned to Bellamy, "How did you know? About...any of this?"

He shook his head, "We can explain at the hospital. Lets go,"

They started walking but Clarke held back. She didn't know why until she called out, "Can we just go home?"

Bellamy wore his confusion and walked over to her, he took her hands and tried to ignore the pang he felt when she flinched, "Clarke, you need to see a doctor." he tried to be gentle but firm, "You look like-"

She shook her head and pulled away, "What I look like and how I am are two different things. I feel fine! Great even!"

"Clarke-" Raven started.

"No!" 

The way her voice broke when she yelled made them all jump.

Tears started to snake down her face again. Slithering down her neck.

"But Clarke-"

"No!" she repeated but this time it was a whisper. Somehow it cut through the air more, "I can't be a victim anymore."

They didn't know what to say. 

"We don't think you're a victim," Emori said softly.

Clarke sniffed and rubbed her nose, "Tough for me. I am one. But as soon as I'm home I can pretend this never happened. Please don't make me drag it out,"

What was left of her voice trailed off.

"Okay. Okay" Bellamy knew Clarke needed a doctor. He was certain she was concussed. But seeing her like this was making his legs weak.

"We will just take you home, Octavia was at the hospital to meet us there but I'll tell her to just come home."

Octavia had to be contained at the hospital where she could feel like she was helping without letting her emotions take over and wrecking the mission.

"John should be back in a minute." Emori added as she gave Clarke another hug.

"Which means we have to be gone. If Cage figures this out-" 

Clarke nodded and walked with Emori towards the main Street where they could grab a taxi.

"I'll wait for Murphy," Raven started walking towards tbe building again but Bellamy grabbed her and pulled her back.

"No, I'll do it. You go back"

Raven cocked her head and Bellamy explained, "I'm gonna text O to bring a doctor back to the apartment,"

"You can do that from a taxi,"

He couldn't respond.

Raven started to leave but turned and said, "She needs you more than any of us. I don't know why you're hiding from her when she needs something to hold onto,"

Then she ran and caught up with the others.

Bellamy let the guilt drip over him with the rain that had once again began to drizzle down over his curls.

Everything went well. Why was he still anxious? She was safe. He saved her.

No. He didn't. He failed her. If he had saved her then why was she limping home. Blood coating her. Why was her face sallow and sunken into her bones. He winced everytime she had tried to speak because ber raspy voice sent pictures of her choking. Hands wrapped around her neck. Long thin fingers curving her throat and twisting. She could have been safe. He ruined her life.

Murphy was shouting in his face when he woke from his self hating daydream.

"Fucking go!" And sprinted off.

When Bellamy caught up he yelled back, "How did it go?"

"Oh Spectacular, Bellamy! Fan-fucking-tastic! That's why we are running away as fast as our fucking legs can carry us!"

Bellamy let this wash over him, "What did you do?"

Murphy gasped for air and the cold air breezed past him.

"He caught me in a lie. I pretended this was a prank but he got mad and went back inside. When he realised Clarke was gone he chased me down the stairs of the building."

"He figured it out?"

"Not completely. But it's safe to say he knows I was a part of it,"

They were on the main road now and Murphy ran through the traffic untill he found an empty taxi and pulled them both in before even knocking on the window.

Once safe, Murphy couldn't help but congratulate himself and relax.

"Damn it Bellamy! Aren't we just knights in shining armour?"

His smile was contagious but as he settled in his seat Bellamy thought about how when Clarke had stepped into the freezing night she had shivered. And how badly he wanted to give her his jacket. But he hadn't brought one. He was obsessed with the thought that he couldn't even keep her warm.

How would he keep her safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed :) please leave a comment and tell me what you thought. This isn't the end... more will come soon. also I'm behind on 2 episodes of the new season because im a little sad at the lack of Bellamy and clarke scenes. But i still have hope. any season predictions?


	9. better and worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted by everything, Clarke and her friends go back to the apartment. But just because Cage is out of sight does not mean he is out of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this, a reasonable upload time. I have to say, at the moment, my life feels so different to how it was literally a week ago. and nothing has happened. my brain just decided to be sad i guess? idk I have really amazing friends but I am physically sick at the thought of being vulnerable with them. But hey, nothing like venting to strangers on the internet! anyway enjoy.

Octavia had cursed her brother for his ridiculous text as soon as she got it. Of course he would be weak willed when he shouldn't be. His famous stubbornness dissolving just because it's Clarke. 

The bleach hospital smell was scouring her nose while she sprinted through, the endless winding halls of constant white walls. Constant sound of her shoes squeaking against the over polished ground. She wasn't even able to appreciate the fact that Clarke was coming home.

But the reality Octavia was forced to face was not a reality at all. It was her imagination... or what she hoped was her imagination and not a newly discovered psychic talent. She could practically see Clarke collapsed in front of her. She forced herself to run even faster past her friend coughing up blood. Her better-than-a-sister pressing down on a stab wound. The fear in her eyes when the air became too thick to breath.

Octavia stopped for a breath, and to wipe the spine-weakening images that clung to her eye-lids. 

Fuck.

Why the hell did she agree to stay away.

Finding a doctor willing to leave the hospital was about as hard as it sounds. Some of them just breezed past her, others thought she was joking. And what really made Octavia boil over was that she couldn't do just that. How could she be frustrated at doctors for not abandoning their patients?.

Her fingers were jerking and trepidation leaked from every pore in her skin.

It was getting colder and the night hours were now dripping into the very early hours of the morning. She was too tired to think. It was as if a large, heavy blanket was placed on her brain. She leant against the hospital walls- half a mind to call Bellamy and tell him to drag Clarke here regardless of what she said. The other part thought she should text Raven or Emori who would actually pull through on that. 

But then someone squeezed her arm.

"Excuse me,"

She was a tall, dark and terrifying looking woman. Her pursed lips seemed ready to snap at her and her gaze was quizzical if not analytical. She was seizing Octavia up. Who, was embarrassed to say, was just after letting herself tear up.

"Um. Yes? I'm sorry," She tried to compose herself, "Can I help you?"

The woman straightened up and presented her hand to shake, "I am Dr. Indra. I heard some rumours coming from other staff about you and I was on my way out, so I wanted to ask,"

"Ask what?"

"If you need a doctor,"

Raven kept her eyes down to the filthy taxi ground. She daren't even look out the window, afraid of even the translucent reflection of the glass.

It irked her that Emori was dealing with this better than she was. She had managed to coax Clarke into conversation, and not even a simple, light hearted one. They were chatting about the news, the Yemen humanitarian crisis. Like Clarke was just back from a holiday.

Raven fiddled with her thumb. She knew that Emori had somewhat of a dark past but Murphy insisted he knew as little about it as the rest of them did, and she believed him. Maybe that was why she knew what to say, because she wished someone else had talked to her like that?

This was horrific. How the hell does shit like this happen? Even if she's wrong about Emori, Clarke was sitting inches from her, a bloody lip and sickly black eye bloomed her brightly coloured. There had to be more cuts on her because the rain Raven had hoped would rinse off the red from Clarke just re-ignited its angry streaks and left her looking like Carrie.

Raven was yet to discover the dark prints Cage had left on her throat, but she already knew they were there. She just knew.

The taxi driver was, of course, not at all suprised by Clarke's appearance. But he refused to take their money when he dropped them off.

"That's Okay, darling. Seems as though you've paid enough tonight. Be safe,"

Emori made sure not to hold Clarke's hand, or throw an arm around her shoulder. She knew Clarke wouldn't respond well to it. Instead she opted to lean on her, disguising her support for her own need of some. Clarke was going to need to feel strong as soon as possible, this is the only way Emori could think to help.

She had gotten the apartment keys off Octavia before and even the dismal staircase offered some sanctuary from the night that seemed so otherworldly today. It was as if they stepped into a radiohead song. Nothing about this was believeable. Maybe that's why no one had completely broken down.

She had expected the others to be far worse.

Clarke's side of the conversation had peeled away from her, but Emori kept talking. The hum of her voice was soothing. 

"Clarke, go get into something comfortable. Maybe just your pjama's, okay?" The apartment was so quiet. So very silent. Emori wanted it to be homely, a soft reminder of safety for Clarke to cling to. But instead, the cool moonlight sliced through the windows and made the flat look sharp, hard and unwelcoming. 

Clarke had frozen. 

She had, admittedly, been able to sink into conversation with Emori easily. She really needed to thank her for not treating her like she would shatter at a moments notice. But Raven's silence and clear anxiety on her face had kept her on edge. It wasn't Raven's fault that she wasn't prepared for this, but it had made Clarke nervous.

But things kept slipping away from her. She would trail off mid-sentence or lose sight of the topic they were talking about. She caught herself slidding somewhere she couldn't recognise. Her mind was becoming unfamiliar. 

Cage would be so angry. So very angry. What would he do when she went back? 

This thought was one that kept escaping. It plastered itself on her mind. Like front page news, it was unavoidable.

She wasn't going back. 

Why not? It insisted.

He loved her. He was in love with her. It's her own fault for not being able to fix him. She didn't even try. He needs her.

But then she was yanked back into the blinding lights. She just wanted to lay in the dark, in the shadows. Let her brain play out these scenarios, it was the only way to really decide anything. Maybe if she released them, they would stop hammering her head. Desperately trying to escape her brain. If she could just purge these things they would go away.

And her eyes would stop drooping and be able to focus again. Her skin would stop flushing red sporadically. The cool sweat that formed along her hairline would sink into the abyss.

Clarke entertained these thoughts until the first creak of her apartment floor. Then she was sent flying, the world twirled around her. It was laughing at her. She thought she was safe.

Nothing was understandable. She could just stand and blink at the girls. They were trying to pull her somewhere. It was too dark to see. Or maybe her eyes weren't open wide enough. She focused on Raven. She could see e everything from a new perspective, literally. Like an out of body experience, she floated above them. Even if it was just a few inches, Clarke could see the tears tracing Raven's face. And how her own eyes copied them.

She could have almost laughed but was scared she would have cried harder. The shuddering breath in her lungs sunk her down again. Or it was the new face ahead of her.

"Please don't cry. I hate it. I hate it so much,"

There he was. Black curls in a damp mop dribbling down his face. The freezing outside air hadn't left his face left, it was so cold to touch. Her fingertips skated along his skin. Her mind fell to a dull roar. 

"Just look at me, and breath,"

Was he always this breathtaking? 

"Bellamy," she murmured, "I just needed..."

His arms wrapped around her. There was no stiffness in her bones. She dissolved into him. He smelt like the rain.

Murphy was right behind. He took Clarke in. Her bruised physique was one thing, it was expected. But her mannerisms and her eyes... they were off. She seemed somewhere else. She didn't know what was going on. He could feel the concern in his bones. She wasn't really out of that apartment yet.

Bellamy had lifted Clarke and taken her back to her room. He cringed at her weight, she must have weighed more before, she was so delicate to the touch. He hated seeing her like this. And he knew she was loathing herself for having to be treated like this. 

The hole in his stomach deepened. 

Emori had chased in after them with some water and sleeping pills which Clarke took silently. She barely looked at them. Her eyes took on that glazed over look again while she got under the cover, still just in her underwear.

It was impossible to tell if she was sleeping, but she was resting. Emori and Bellamy pretended to be content with that. 

Closing the door behind them, they had to face the others. No one was speaking, they were lost. They knew Clarke was going to be hurt, or scared, but they never expected the severity of this.

Murphy was the first to speak, "Octavia will be here soon. We should just sit and wait."

Raven had nodded, "I'll make some coffee,"

Emori trailed after her to the kitchen and Murphy gestured to the living room for Bellamy. The two men were both in shock, everything had spiralled out of control. And they couldn't even place when it happened. Bellamy was resting his head in his hands and slowly rubbing his temple. She was so confused. For a moment it seemed like she didn't know who he was. She woke from it suddenly, like a bad dream but had fell back into it so soon.

Oh God.

"Where the hell is this doctor?"

Emori came in with two mugs and handed it to them. Bellamy noticed that she was the least fazed by any of this. She seemed to just know what to do. Raven came in and handed a cup to Emori and they all sat down.

"I put some sugar into them, I thought we could use something sweet,"

Everyone sipped in silence. The streetlife continued down below and was casting a spell of serenity on the little living room. The cars slowing trudging by offered a rhythm to distract them.

And It wasn't until Octavia walked in that Bellamy let his mind think anything.

"Is she okay? Where is she?" She rushed in, a whirlwind of panic. She grabbed Raven and forced her to stand up.

"She's in her room, she's okay. She's just a little spaced,"

"oh,"

Raven's eyes suddenly found the woman behind.

"Hello, um. Are you the Doctor?" she asked nervously.

"Yes, I'm Dr Indra. In an ideal situation I would introduce myself to everyone but I think I should see the patient first of all, Clarke, was it?"

"Yeah, she's this way," Emori was on her feet, "She had a little panic attack so I gave her some light sleeping pills. She isn't going to be sleeping deeply though."

They both left the room and Octavia found the adrenaline drain from her. It made her hands shake.

"O, come over here," Bellamy gave her a hug and let her cry into the stoop of his shoulder, "You did so well."

She wasn't ready for this. She just needed Clarke to be okay again.

"Let's sit down. We don't know how long Indra will be,"

Emori re-appeared a few moment later.

"Indra is checking her now, Clarke seems pretty out of it but she's awake."

As Emori moved to sit down, Bellamy couldn't help himself, "Emori, how the hell do you know how to do all this?"

She stopped in her tracks. Smoothening her hair she said, "I'm just guessing. Like all of us,"

"No. You know things and you aren't panicking...,"

"I'm good under pressure,"

"There's more to it than that,"

"I must have read it somewhere,"

He knew he was pushing. But he had to do something.

"You seem experienced with..."

"It's none of your business!" she snapped.

Everyone flinched. Bellamy felt ridden with guilt. This was not the time.

But she beat him to it, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped down your throat,"

"No, no. I was being an ass. Sorry,"

They both just let it go. But all eyes were on Emori, she sat on Murphy's chair's arm. Her hands were wrapped around herself and she was lost in thought.

Murphy put and arm around her shoulder but she didn't notice.

Someone put on the TV. No one watched it. And half an hour later Indra came back out.

"We need to take her to the hospital, right now,"


	10. at least we know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indra insists on taking Clarke to the hospital, a place where Clarke feels danger around every corner, behind every glance, knocking on every door....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually can't believe how lovely everyone was on my last chapter and I am not lying when I say a few comments made me a bit emotional. But anyway, pressure's on for me and for Clarke. please enjoy and let me know what you think!

I was the first one on my feet.

My breath had surged to my chest, the tension in my stomach finally released in an exhale. I didn't want to take Clarke to hospital, not for her reasoning, but again I could be useful. I can make up for some of my incompetence. But right when I expect the adrenaline to hit, I get slapped with a cold blood rush of dread.

I sharply inhale and the room shifts behind me but I keep my balance. I need to focus. Even when the worry hammers to be let into my mind. I steel my walls and force it out.

"Is she Okay?" My sister trailed behind me.

Indra looked at us. Her lips opened just a crack then pursed again. She can't meet my eyes. It happened in just a second but I saw her grimace.

The worry cuts my brain and slices through my reinforcements.

Indra's professionalism breaks through, she points to me. 

"I need you to carry her downstairs, do you have a car?"

Everyone else was up and clambering to be useful, for a moment Indra looks overwhelmed.

"We don't have a car-" I awkwardly reply. We're university students, why would we?

She nods and paces the floor, "I don't think we should call an ambulance, it isn't that serious," she looks to Emori, "Call a taxi,"

Emori runs out and I hear her urgently rummage through her bag.

Murphy perks up, "So, it isn't "that" bad then, is it?"

Indra raises her eyebrows, "I'm sorry, did you miss the part where I said she needs to be hospitalised?"

That shut him up. 

For me, gravity is under control again. But the scratching anxiety in the pit of my stomach is relentless. I can't focus on anything but Clarke. I can see her now. She's on the floor, blood trickling down her nose while her whole body trembles and quakes in seizes that I think will take her through the wooden ground. She stares blankly at me the whole time and my stomach threatens to up end itself, oh God I can't be sick. Indra is yelling at me to just pick her up. I'm so scared to touch her, what if I push her over the edge she is so close to. And Indra is still yelling at me.

"Stop zoning out, you waste of space! We need to go now!"

I yank my brain out of it's time wasting thoughts and follow her to the bedroom. And in some ways I'm grateful for my over active imagination because Clarke could not be further from the half zombie moaning and wailing in my brain, on the cusp of death.

She's asleep. Just lying still. Relief floods in me, almost enough to extinguish my growing nerves. Almost.

Of course, as I get closer she starts to look less okay. Maybe she isn't a zombie but she could be a ghost. Her face has taken on a translucent sheen made more noticeable by the gloss of sweat on her forehead. I'm by her side now, and I lean over to pick her up but she doesn't even stir. Although, her breath rasps and I can feel the rattles of it when I pull her into my chest and carry her out of the room.

The bottom of my throat is dense. I feel my back trickle with a shudder.

She's so limp.

Raven and Indra are talking outside the bedroom door when I walk out.

"So what exactly is wrong with her?" I could see Raven becoming more agitated the more she discovered. Not being able to help is a fatal combination with a person who is constantly solving problems.

"I don't know everything yet," Indra murmurs, "but she is definitely concussed and her windpipe needs looked at. I would guess she needs a rape kit as well, if she wants to press charges,"

No

I could swear the blood stopped flowing through me. My body felt like it was caught mid-sentence. A fist was tightening in my chest and just about stopped from collapsing in on myself. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

I look down at Clarke in my arms. No. There is no way someone is that evil.

But her bruises sneer at me for being so naive. Why would he stop there? I pull her tightly to my chest. Why did I ever act like I was okay with Cage? I couldn't have predicted this, but I could have prevented it.

The wave of anger is fast approaching now, but I'm not ready yet. I need to be alone when it crests, in my room and I can smash my own things and not let my recently traumatised friends see me breakdown. I couldn't handle them seeing me like this. I close my eyes as I realise that Clarke feels the same way, only she can't hide her pain.

Clarke shifts. She winces and her eyes snap open. I look on helplessly while she tries to pull herself up, fail then turn to me with wide eyes.

"Bellamy?" She wheezes, "I can't breath,"

That's it.

"Let's go, Now!" I yell.

I barely look at anyone else as I start racing down the steps and shouting that if no one else gets their asses down here now I will be leaving without them.

Octavia is fast on my tail, "Has something happened?" 

I grit my teeth, "She said she can't breath," 

We both glance down at her, she slipped back out of consciousness but her body shudders with each intake of breath. Did that son of a bitch break her neck? Is that even possible without killing her?

My teeth clench even harder, maybe this is the killing part. Fuck.

"Fuck," Octavia echos my thoughts, "Taxi is here already, you and Indra get it with Clarke and we will get another,"

I nod but I don't even know if that is what she really said because it's what I am going to do regardless.

I can't breath.

Well, that's not entirely true. I can breath but it's like my throat has turned into a waterfall and my breathing tube is a paper straw going through it and is slowly turning to mush while occasionally leaking so much that I jolt awake in a choke.

I know what is going on. I might be unconscious, I think, but I dream of what is happening around me. My reality is ebbing into my escape in little voices or being touched. Then when my eyes open sporadically, I'm proven right.

Time flows differently in moments like this, or maybe it's just my head injury. But it's like I'm travelling down a river, everything moves how it's expected to then I round a bend and things get too fast. It's frantic and choppy and hard to control. Something yanks me under, and I find myself suspended. Time moves in a glacial pace that numbs my brain. I float upwards again. Then the cycle repeats.

I can feel my head rested on Bellamy's chest. I'm positioned in such a way that I can feel everytime he cranes his neck to check on me. He does it a lot.

I'm still earth shatteringly embarrassed by this. And I hate that I am. But I resent them for panicking when they think i'm in trouble, or when they seem scared that they're gonna lose me. I don't know why. But I know that I resent myself more for putting them through it.

I need them to be okay with this because, if I'm being honest, I am starting to think this could be it. The big finale in the circus of my life. I hope it was entertaining to whoever was pulling the strings.

And I can't leave them alone when they're like this.

The taxi is slowing now, I can feel Bellamy tense up like he is about to run a marathon. I can also feel my throat tighten, then the squeeze of a choke makes my eyes water and this time I think the straw has snapped.

I grab the boy by the shoulders and push him out of the car. He is stupid and lovesick and useless in an emergency but he's strong. So, unfortunately, I need him.

I normally don't get involved in the personal matters when I treat a patient, but this one intrigues me. This boy clearly cares a lot for her.

I cast a glance back at him, he is running beside me but I can see he wants to go faster. It's annoying that he has to wait for me but unless he has learned the winding routes of the hospital while I wasn't looking then he will have to wait.

But the other girl told me that her boyfriend was the abuser. So-

"Indra are we nearly there?" he pleads with me, I see what he is so frightened about, her chest is spiking and indenting with a furious fever. I swallow.

"Over this corner," I don't get nervous, I don't. Never have, never will. But I do get scared. And i've seen people die for less.

I gesture to the nurses who stare at us as we slow our sprint. They get a gurney and practically have to rip her out of the boy's arms. He crosses them over where she was on his chest tightly. Then we both watch her be whisked away.

Before I follow them, I look at the boy.

"What's your name?" I ask in the softest voice I can muster.

He's grinding his teeth, "Bellamy,"

I put my hand on his arm, admittedly, I'm not a great comforter but I have a spot on intuition and I know what pain he must be in right now. The vibrational misery is spreading and I would be lying if my heart didn't ache for him in pity. But I cannot get involved, personal feelings need to stay out of the job and that's just how it works. 

So I leave him with my thoughts unsaid because what good what that do him anyway? To know that someone sees your heartbreak does nothing more than make it more obvious.

The waiting room is freezing. 

I blow out my breath, half expecting it to come out in steam. I hope Clarke's room isn't this cold.

"How long does it take to treat a concussion?" John whispers in my ear, for once he is genuine and not sarcastic.

"Depends on the severity," I murmur back.

"Oh, so the longer this takes the worse Clarke is? That's great to know,"

He's being snipey, we all are. Irritability is a side effect of trauma. In my experience at least.

My experience.

I'm not stupid. I know what everyone else is noticing and the questions that are teetering off the cliff of their tongue. But this is not share your emotional scars day. Even if it was, I wouldn't.

There are just some times where you care too much about someone to tell them your secrets.

I look to Murphy, he is draped on the chair next to mine, arm wrapped around my shoulders. His easy-going posture reflects relaxation but he is too loose. Too flowing. He's over compensating. No one wants to show how their feeling. 

Raven is taking to a nurse about anything with a lot of frantic hand gestures.

Octavia is reading one of the magazines on the stands. But she isn't really reading them. She flicks through a few pages, closes it, wraps it into a little tube and nervously slaps it against her knees a few times before repeating it again.

Bellamy hasn't even sat down yet.

Selfishly, I let my thoughts drift back to me. 

I want to tell Murphy. No. Want is not the right word. I don't need to either. Its been 2 years together and it never seemed even note-worthy until now. I know his past, he knows the censored version of mine. But just seeing Bellamy react like this makes me want to get it over with. 

And Bellamy loves Clarke. Just to really air my thoughts out.

Bellamy leans against the wall, head first. He closes his eyes, but the problem isn't with what he can see. You see, it isn't even his thoughts,which are bleak enough, but with his mind itself. It's heavy. It feels a tingling sensation of absolutely nothing. Numbness amplified.

He taps the wall, gently thrumming a rhythm. 

He can't even think about Clarke. Her golden hair, heart-stopping smile and unbelievably stubborn personality. 

Because, Oh God, he is selfish. He already knew he cared about her.... more, lets say, but this cursed fate was hammering it into his head that you really have nothing when she's gone. Or as good as nothing. 

So, all he could wonder was when, if ever, would she know this too? 

Interrupting him, there was a shift in atmosphere behind. Like everyone's spine's cracked to attention simultaneously.

When he turned around it wasn't much different. Because there, with a smile to set off alarm and worried eyes and flowers. Was Cage.

He was standing awkwardly looking for somewhere to sit, either unaware or ignoring Emori's shocked expression and her clearly pushing Murphy back into his seat because he was ready to kill.

His mouth went dry. He had to manually control his breathing because what in holy hell was happening? That disgusting man was there, in the maggot infested flesh. He was smiling, as if he knew she would be fine and would forgive him? 

Eyes had snapped up to him. But he wouldn't make a scene. That is he wasn't going to. But Cage got a cozy little seat next to Octavia, who's eyes searched feverishly for an excuse to leave. She was scared.

And all Bellamy knew was that was going to be last person Cage could feel big from making scared. 

He walked with a relaxed speed to right in front of him. Cage opened his mouth to greet him but it was choked out by being grabbed by his collar and yanked to his feet.

"Get the fuck out of this hospital, Cage," Bellamy was muttering into his ear, there was no need to scare other people, "And stay away from us. But you Will be hearing from the police,"

He shoved him towards the door and he stumbled but collected himself again and turned back to Bellamy.

"I have a right to be here," a smirk dripped from his lips, "She is my girlfriend and I want to make sure she's okay,"

The dark swell of water was on the edge of collapse. Right on Cage's head

"You? You want to make sure she is okay? Well, maybe don't put her in a hospital next time," Bellamy's voice was still low, he refused to give Cage the pleasure of him exploding.

Cage was a good actor, you can give him that. Because he acted so shocked at the accusation that Bellamy almost laughed. Okay, scratch that. Maybe he was too dramatic.

"I have never touched a hair on her head!" he was clasping his hands, "I love her!"

Bellamy scoffed, "Enough to leave bruises?"

Cage's face tightened, he looked like he was going to yell the hospital down but it simmered and melted into a smug grin.

"Maybe you misunderstood. I never hurt her when she didn't want to be, Clarke's really Something else in the bedroom,huh?" he licked his lips, "Not that you would know-"

Bellamy's veins were ice. What an egotistical, malevolent piece of complete shit person. He just wanted to snap this little man's neck but before that-

"Oh just shut up," Emori was standing beside him, arms crossed and irritated but bemused expression on her face.

"Excuse me, girl. But this has nothing to do with you-"

"Oh it has everything to do with me. You are an abusive, gaslighting asshole. So run along now before we call the police,"

Cage was stuttering Now, "I have a great lawyer. And seeing as how-"

"We literally could not give less of a shit. Now go,"

Bellamy was smiling now. Cage grabbed his bunch of flowers roughly, sending red petals splattering to the floor. And he stormed out in a flurry of words and gestures.

Everyone gawked at Emori, but she had moved on to bigger things.

"Indra's back,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my friends so much but do you ever just feel like they don't care as much as you? I know they don't mean to be rude, but they say I'm the "therapist friend" and I give great advice. Which is all well and good until I'm the one who needs help and they are desperate to change the subject cause they are uncomfortable with emotions or cause they think my problem has disappeared know that I'm not talking about it.


	11. very soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy can't grasp his emotions and Clarke takes a moment to process things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was away for 2 weeks. so sorry. but I actually had a draft of this chapter that disappeared so I had to redo it :(
> 
> also it was my birthday a while ago and I can't even comprehend that I am *that* age.

The group had swirled around Indra in seconds. Grim expressions like shrouds on their faces.

When she started the speak the coarse nature of her voice sliced through the thickly silent room. Bellamy traced all of their faces with a cooly disconnected stare. They were so easy to read. Octavia was pushing her palms up and down her legs like she was desperate to get the filth off them, her face pinched and the effort of trying to stay strong was emphasised by her stooped shoulders. Raven was wringing her hands, desperately trying to squeeze them into creating a solution. To jolt them back. Murphy kept a more neutral expression. Nodding at Indra's incoherent verses, but his tell was his arm, wrapped around the shoulders of Emori. His hold less comforting than gripping to a reality he could scarcely believe.

Then there was Emori. She leaned into Murphy. Eyes closed.

Bellamy felt it then. The mind numbing crush of absolutely nothing. It was as though he had short circuited. The strange cocktail mix of fear and despair had poisoned him, left his insides dead and unfeeling. He had managed to lose something without noticing. He had not realised that his emotions were keeping him grounded and sane. Now he was suspended in the aftermath of things that haven't even happened to him but he could feel so immensely that how could it not have? Well, at one point he felt it.

He needed Indra to stop. The incessant drone of despairing words were losing all meaning. She wouldn't. Why would she? And he was curious to know what Clarke had happen to her, he wanted to know. But he _needed_ her to stop saying things that make no difference and he could have told her before even seeing Clarke tonight.

_"She has gone through severe trauma-"_ He knew that.

_"-She needs some time to recover-"_ You don't need a PHD to tell them that.

_"-she asked me to tell you all to go home, she isn't ready to talk to you all,"_ This part created a pause in the group, Raven furrowed her brows in shock. But Bellamy knew this would happen. She was done playing the helpless girl tonight. When given the chance to, she was always going to hide from them. He wishes he could feel even the sting to his heart at her passing them by. But he could not convince himself to care to that point. Not that he didn't care.

Raven was begging Indra to let her in to talk to Clarke. The pull in her voice threatened to unveil her.

He had pushed the wave back too hard and instead it sank, dragging him with the tides. He cursed his brain for being weak and for needing sleep. Because, at that moment, his mind was so exhausted it was managing to blur the importance of right now and his bed to a terrifying degree. Other than that, nothing mattered enough.

So that's why he stepped outside the group on Indra mid-sentence. Why he rushed to the door and swung it open without so much as a mumbled excuse. His name flickered from his friend's mouth to the air but fell short of making any real impact. He just wanted to feel again. He was without it for barely a moment and he couldn't gasp a breath at the magnitude of his mind, now just a white noise machine. He had stepped into the cold stairwell gratefully and felt his back hunch and he leaned over the railings. His knuckles were painted a skull white when his fingers snaked the metal. He briefly wondered if he thew himself down the stairs would he feel again. He let out a small mirthless laugh at the dark joke.

There was a pull in his stomach, like it was folding in on itself. 

And that's when he heard it. A voice so shrill with its own arrogance it announced itself with foghorn level sound to Bellamy.

Then it started.

The deep waters of nothing that he wadded through, and desperately tried to create a wave in, started to tug him in deeper. A strong current dragging him, choking him, deeper and deeper. He was surrounded. Then he was weightless, charging into the centre of a whirlpool. His mind was released in a roaring wave. It pushed him to somewhere he knew well. A familiar feeling he couldn't quite name. 

It wasn't until Bellamy's fist collided with Cage's chin could he taste the blood of anger on his tongue. Unrelenting fury bitterly screaming.

Cage was thrown off his step by the unexpectedness and power behind the punch. He tipped and fell back, smacking his head with a whip-like crack against the brick of the walls. Bellamy waited until he was finished falling and slumped to the ground before grabbing him by the shirt collar and pulling him up again. Cage's breath was wet and warm on his face. Spluttering and begging for Bellamy to think. To understand how he was acting. So Bellamy twisted Cage around and grabbed his arm, swiftly using the momentum to slam Cage face first into the wall. His nose smashing against it.

Cage worried he had died, that his nose bone had slid into his brain. Because the pain did not hit. But he needn't have worried because the pain was simply late and nearly blinded him on arrival with the sheer agony of it. Blood spurting down his face like a tap, his whole body shaking in shock and being unable to even raise a hand to protect his face from even more abuse. So he begged once more, "Please. Stop-" he coughed so forcefully his eyes started streaming, "You don't have to- please don't do this,"

Bellamy kept his eyes trained to him but he made no further attempt to harm him. Because that damn wheezing snivelling man in a bloody pulp would do nothing for Clarke. And he was selfish to think his murderous vendetta was in any way going to help. So he closed his eyes, sighed, then turned on his heels and left.

They had told Clarke what she had to do at least three times now. That it was in her best interest to go to the police now. As time goes on her evidence will look less and less promising for a winnable case. That her Rape kit at the moment was enough, and adding the witnesses and her bruises could easily get Cage locked up for life. 

But she was still reeling. The scars on her body were drawn in highlighter inker under the fluorescent lights that they photographed for her. The aching in her bones they promised would subside in just a moment after the painkillers kicked in. And the extra pill just to be able to sleep. 

They said she might not be able to do that properly again for a while, or sporadically throughout her life.

And then they had told her that she had benzodiazepine in her blood. A date rape drug. And that he had even humiliated her when she wasn't conscious because she swore blind to them she does not remember any other time he did it. 

So, in all honesty, why would Clarke even pretend to be in the headspace to consider this. 

The cool moonlight was beginning to fade through the Venetian blinds in her hospital room. The room was bathed in a porcelain pale light that made everything look delicate. Clarke couldn't bear to even touch herself in case her skin would crumble to dust. So, instead she regarded her blossoming blue legs with a curled lip and her head shook when she winced at the stitches in her head.

She was disgusted.

Then the door to her room opened. And Emori smiled at her. The immediate barricade of ice was put under heat.

Clarke just watched as she took the seat beside he bed. An ugly yellow colour which pained Clarke to look at. Yellow had been her favourite colour, a hue of happiness now stained forever in her memory. Emori took her hand when she sat down. And she didn't;t ask permission, but he fingers were loose enough for Clarke to slip out simply.

"I like this time of night, you know?" her voice was sweet, a hum in the quiet, "It's like anticipation, the buzz of the day is only a few hours away. But right now this is just for you,"

She was staring out the window, her face looked almost blue in the light.

"Why are you here?" Clarke's voice was not as difficult to hear as before. The rasp was considerably more subtle, but Emori's face still cracked a moment when she spoke.

"I know. I'm sorry. But me and John said we would stay here tonight and he fell asleep. But I knew we were awake,"

Clarke paused before asking, but she knew this was the only time to, "You know all about it, don't you?"

Emori smiled a small strained smile and nodded, "Not the same, but yes,"

Clarke squeezed her hand. 

"So is John snoring loudly?"

Emori snorted, "It's like a pig in the hospital."

They both breathed out a light chuckle, then let it lull into a peaceful silence. Both of their gleaming eyes were on the glass of the window which now began to patter with the early splashes of morning rain.

"I know you want to push us away right now, but I need to tell you, that whatever reason you have to, is nowhere near good enough."

Clarke's throat tightened.

"You think we won't treat you the same, but I won't let them. I will make them continue to argue with you, laugh with you, make bad decisions with you. But when you need to be dealt with a delicate hand I will be here as well, because at some point you might need it and please just ask me. You don't need to leave us because you think you are a burden, or you think we will make it worse. But being alone will make that weight in your chest so much worse. Even if you choose to carry this all on your own, Let us at least be around to offer to lift it for you."

Clarke breathing deeply, her eyes on the two girls intertwined fingers.

softer now, "I know even saying that is a lot. But if you never speak of this again. just remember what I said."

The rain was rattling against the glass now, a slow rhythm to keep the girls encased in their little bubble. After a few minutes Clarke had made her decision, 

"How did you ever cope without someone like you to help like you just did with me?'

Emori laughed a whisper, "I had so much to deal with, and I thought I didn't let anyone help me. But I've come to realise that just because the people around me were not aware they were actively easing my mind does not change the fact they did. And just because they didn't know I was in pain didn't stop them from helping me." 

Clarke nodded.

So they sat and watched the night bleed into bleary eyed early morning and they kept their minds beautifully distracted by the pouring rain until the cool light warmed to a yellow tone.

Then they let their hands slip from each other and their minds drip into the unconscious. A soft sleep where they knew they were safe and they felt kin control.

Bellamy staggered through the morning. His shirt was soaked through and he had been wandering about aimlessly since he left the stairwell. Unable to sleep, his legs were almost worthless. His thoughts were treacherous, They had convinced him to leave, to abandon Clarke and now they were scratching his brain to come back to her. To tell her what he wants to.

But he won't. He can't. not when she's vulnerable. And he needs to show her he isn't Cage. That he is not a man that only views her as his, as a sex toy or as a girlfriend. And that he respects her.

But he still needs to see her. If not for professions of love then to tell her that he may have broken Cage's nose. The Guilt still clanged in his brain like a gong. She could be upset with him. But her disappointment was worth just seeing her again. And showing her that he is her friend. And nothing will change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please please comment. I need a little serotonin or some constructive criticism.


	12. i am truly sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy finally talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I am crap at updating, I feel like every writer says this but oh well, anyway I really like hearing your feedback and just to let you know I think there's only 2 more chapters after this so get ready for the end

The stairwell looked infinitely different walking up instead of down.

Of course, it could also be the difference between seeing them as you walk up them deep in thought or on a murderous rampage. He paused briefly to look at the spot of the wall speckled with blood. Bellamy cringed inwardly just thinking of the repercussions that would bring upon not just himself, but Clarke. Could it effect her case? Swallowing the guilt, he continued upwards and kept his eyes at his feet.

He had gone home, showered and gotten a coffee. The process was meant to clear his head from thoughts, instead he found it was impossible to fight them or to get them to leave. Not when Monty and Jasper pounced on him as soon as he stepped in the house, demanding answers and needing comforting. He almost wanted to laugh, he had comforted everyone else more than Clarke had let him. And Clarke had hid from it while everyone else seemed to think they were entitled to it. They weren't wrong.

The main discovery, the most important one, was that when he stopped swatting his thoughts every time they emerged to bother him, then he could let it change. To transform in front of his eyes from an anxiety inducing problem to a simple solution. And relief was a much more productive feeling than overwhelming anger. His eyes still drooped and his bed still looked deliciously comforting but the buzz of caffein in his veins and the stubborn wrinkles of his brain kept him insistent that sleep would come second.Second to... something.

On the way he had bought a bunch of flowers, dahlias. Their lips were parted from a pink, not unlike her hair during a phase in her first year of college, to a white strained with a more peach coral. He had brushed his thumb over the bud and thought back to when she had arrived home with the streaks flowing through her choppy curls and a smile sharp as bleach. He had reprimanded her for the unprofessional colour. Told her it was childlike. Now he just wished he could hit himself for not letting her enjoy being young and carefree when she could. She still could be, he reminded himself, he didn't know how though and the though made him dizzy. The plastic around the flowers crinkled with every step he took, a little reminder to keep level headed.

It was far from a gloomy day but just short of a sunny one too. The whispy clouds bundled together enough to block the sun but still let the blanched blue sky show through, instead acting as a veil. There were some heavy looking clouds, but Bellamy was optimistic, he was determined to make it a good day.

Swinging open the door to Clarke's floor revealed a much different sight to last night. Now humming with activity and enough natural light so the god awful fluorescent lights would be turned off, Bellamy felt less agitated and more of an excited nervous. As though he was talking to a girl he liked when he was 14, rather than watching his best friend's life hang in the balance. 

He caught a glimpse of Emori and Murphy still in the waiting room. Murphy was conked out, regardless of the nurses bustling past and the shrill phone that rang on and off every few minutes, as if he was in his own bed. He snored like it too. Emori was propped up and sipping a coffee beside him, nose stuck in a book someone must have left behind. Trust Emori to find a book hidden amongst the trashy magazines. She caught his eye and smiled before nudging Murphy awake beside her.

Murphy jolted rather violently awake and Emori laughed when he went red as the nurses tittered at him. He composed himself and followed her gaze to Bellamy. His relief was painfully obvious on his face, the sigh he let out softened his features and brought his face back the ten years this experience moulded on him.

"Glad you're back," 

Bellamy just smiled, "So can we see her yet?"

Emori beat Murphy to answer, "Technically, no. But it's a hospital so it's not like there is top security measures on each door, you can get in pretty easy," Murphy was clearly surprised as he looked at her with his mouth hung open. She responded without being prompted, "I couldn't sleep, a problem you clearly did not suffer from, so I went in and talked to her for a bit."

Bellamy could feel a little jump of jealousy. He had hoped he would be the first to talk to Clarke once in the hospital, but he quickly squashed it and instead let himself feel happy Clarke had even spoken to someone., 'How was she?"

Emori looked down but her smile could be seen peeking around the edges of her turned face, "She was fine, tired and she was-she was still emotional and shaken up. But better."

He turned his attention to the door, it was looming above him. Growing and shifting shape. Beckoning him to it, or to just leave and give up. It would be so much easier. He felt as though he could just float out that door and never worry again, not like this. And maybe he was right, but no matter what he had to do to help Clarke, he was going to do it. And be grateful she even lets him near her.He had read about women not even being able to look at men after sexual assault, men they had previously trusted, and he didn't know how devastated he would be if Clarke needed him out of her life.

A hole opened in his throat and his words collapsed into it. 

He could see the door looming in front of him, it ran towards him and way from him in a vertigo illusion. His fingers nervously scratched their stems. And he took the first step. 

Murphy and Emori faded into the background. Falling back into place.

The warm rays of morning from the window warmed up his fingers as they curved around the door and pushed. His eyes widened, taking in the change. The room was alive with sunlight. Swallowing the corners in a sunny embrace and softening the cold edges of the night. A breath of air fluttered through Bellamy's hair and his eyes were guided to the window, open ajar. His eyes then following the same line of vision straight into her stare. Green drops of amazonite held in place by the white of a cloud. Her skin was illuminated, of course the daylight brought her bruises and scars bubbling to the surface, they stretched their malicious fingers over her skin, but Bellamy could feel the feather touch of a shiver down his spine when he saw her face. Just like always.

The light on her hair was glinting, a vision of cascading gold dust. 

And within a moment, she turned and stared through him. There was no hint of a smile, not even a whisper of a greeting. She didn't know what she wanted.

"Hey, Clarke,"

She swallowed. Her face wasn't unreadable nor indescribable but difficult to understand non the less. Her features showed no obvious signs of wanting him to leave or being uncomfortable but she was not excited to see him. Her face looked so undecided but full of regret.

He didn't let it change him.

So he perched on the edge of the bed, carefully placing his hands away from her. And they both returned their eyes to the window. The sunrise long gone but still rising over the stretched buildings surrounding, letting glimpses of light peak through.

'Bellamy," her voice was soft, she didn't want to speak.

He looked at her, and felt the first peel of hope drift away. 

"I brought you flowers," he put them next to her. She smiled but it was weak. She never told him this, why would she? But she always hated store bought flowers. Wrapped in an inch of plastic and artificially enhanced to stay bright and unnatural which just left them weak. Or dead within days of purchasing them. But those were minor things she used to cushion her core reason, which she felt wasn't good enough, that they were always cut too soon. The bud was never open when they were picked so that the lucky customer could enjoy its bursting. The thought of it being dead before achieving anything, of it being too soon, was just something that effected her.

"They're lovely,"

He just wanted to leave. He wasn't ready.

"Bellamy, I need you to know some things," she moved her hand over his and waited for his response. He held it.

She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them slowly, "Bell, I can't pin point the moment I started to wonder if I was in love with you, but I know it was too long ago." She pulled her knees toward herself, avoiding his eyes, that were beginning to leak, "I think _I am_ in love with you, and I think you at least have feelings for me, but you have to know-to know that I-I...oh god," her head started to throb. The tears curved down her face and dripped from her chin in a way she was sure did not look very attractive. But when she stole a glance to him, he seemed too sunken to notice.

"I just can't, Bell, you have to understand me! Please," the panic set in. He hated her. The gasping breaths threatened to choke her but just strangled her voice.

"Clarke please, please don't cry. I'm not mad. I Promise. Clarke," He squeezed her hand and lifted it up to his lips, pulling himself closer to her. Not touching her body but stooping his head to meet hers, "I love you so much, but I really don't expect anything. You are doing nothing wrong."

She was still crying, the tears were falling on their clasped hands, although the panicked breathing had calmed down. She could feel his breath on her lips. And her helplessness returned.

"I just know, that this moment, is in the wrong universe for us to ever stand a chance, and I can't lose you. I'm so selfish, but I can't lose you," her face moved even closer to his while she spoke. Both of their cheeks were soaked, she stroked his with her other hand. Gently wiping the tears away. She looked into his eyes.

"Clarke, I love-" she shushed him. Breathing him in and tipping her head, finally pushing herself into him, meeting him in an apocalyptic kiss. The normal weight of it was not the same. It was paperweight but drowning her. And as Bellamy pulled away, and she fought to not lean in again, she could see his pain. The way he looked at her. The tears that never stopped. And as the sun rose over the last rooftop, she pulled him closer, till she was lying on his shoulder and he was on the bed. Arms wrapped around each other, looking out the window. Both silently comforting each other as they silently cried into what they knew they couldn't have.


	13. better now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm sorry for the agonisingly late upload, but I have been back in school and kinda not doing too great, anyway I hate Jason Rothenberg and the show ended in season 4 and also Clarke was part of spacekru.
> 
> so that's why I had to write this last chapter.

The next year of their live's did not pass them by. It struggled, scratched and clung to them. The tendrils of time never ceasing its grip. The return to normality was deliriously slow, some may argue they never arrived back, others might say that it never existed to begin with. But one thing I can say with absolute certainty, is that once the year collapsed in on itself and another rose in its place, Clarke felt an immediate shift.

She had not locked herself in her room for 12 months, or cried continuously into her friend's shoulders, but her mindset was wiped clean and a fresh one spread anew on her brain. A protective blanket promising to never let her guard down again. It manifested a lot of loneliness. That being said, the good days snuck up on her as much as the bad days did.

One day springs to mind, a rainy Tuesday night where she sat with Bellamy under the window pane, reading by the glassy reflections of the tummeric gold street lights. Huddled with blankets, refusing to turn on a light or leave their spot. Terrified that one little murmur would destroy it all. Octavia had found them in the morning, hunched over and leaning on each other as they slept. Neither had been able to stand up straight for a week but every little ache was simply a bruised memory that brought a smile to their lips.

That was what Clarke tried to remember now, not anything else. Not the day before her court date, where the thoughts of seeing him again induced such nauseating anxiety that she cried alone in the dark of her room, clutching the pains in her stomach while knowing that nothing was actually there.

She could do with forgetting that next day as well. But she had 2 years to work out how to deal with that now, and she would find it hard to forget.

Returning to school was less of a challenge, as no one knew about any of her sufferings, she was grateful for that at least. The blessed distraction of course work and tests made her even more eager to start the next chapter of her life. It was like a soft breeze cooling her brain which steamed with heat. Bellamy and Raven coaxed her through her exams, though she didn't need it, and they stood with her when the work paid off, and she was suddenly a fully fledged medical student. The beams of pride still stream through her chest as she thinks about it.

Octavia never relented, constantly trying to cheer her up or stretch one happy mood into another day. It was infuriating at times, but mostly just endearing. Their apartment quickly gained a honey hue. Octavia, admittedly hopped up on some ridiculously optimistic magazine article, was convinced that painting the living room yellow would improve Clarke's mood. The banana toned walls were sickly, even Octavia could admit that. So Clarke, with a bemused smile on her face for the rest of the day, dragged Octavia back to the paint shop to buy a more subdued colour. Still yellow, but now more creamy and aged, like a crinkled love letter. She also bought some gold paint to add a little more flair to the edges of some furniture. 

Part of her knew it would be tacky, the other knew that even a regrettable project was a distraction. And the apartment was sunshine.

No one was a better wall to lean on than Emori, she was the only one to see her cry after that night. Dark mornings where they both sat on the phone. Bleary eyes adjusting to the night while listening to Clarke try and catch her breath over the muffled line. The silent gasping that racked Clarke's throat raw while she tried to disappear into Emori's chest when it was just too much to deal with alone.

She missed being okay with solitude. But becoming comfortable with everyone else was more important right now. And not resenting them for it.

But slowly, she was beginning to re- appreciate the simple cling of a hand on hers. the twisting of fingers through hers' and the nervous shifting of them to adjust. The warm moisture trapped between palms. The slight rustle between shoulders when you lean on them. The way they are so steady, yet give way softly when you press your head down on them. Edges covered in soft tissue, the human pillow. Interesting enough, shoulders manage to soak up more tears than any pillow, more efficiently as well. 

And one beautiful day, the hand holding wasn't enough. Brushing shoulders was not enough. Holding each other was no longer enough. Or maybe it was, just not from these people. Or maybe only from one of them. And that still wasn't enough. Because her eyes would never stop tracing his when they closed. Her hands would never stop having to be restrained from holding his face, and bringing it close to hers. To let his eyes melt into hers, a waterfall of visuals she only wanted to experience through his eyes. And then she would realise he was staring back at her. And she would flush a rosy pink before abandoning her daydreams for another time. Narrowly missing his smile.

And it was over a year later, but that damn kiss took up so much of her headspace. And she was desperate to know how much it took up of his.

The first instance was the red tulips. Sitting on her windowsill. Wrapped in a newspaper, red lips parted like a whisper against the shock of Scarlett. She pressed them into her thickest medical book when they started to dry. And she keeps the papery petals safe at all times.

Once they had disappeared from her window more would always find their way in. Octavia, insisted she had no idea where they came from, but the twist of her lip and the flexing in her fingers revealed more than she thought. But no answer could be coaxed from her.

Stock flowers came next, beautiful towers of budding purple and pick that dissolved to the touch into tiny petal confetti.

soon after, sunflowers that blended to the apartments yellow theme comically well.

The strange explosion of Porcelana Roses

A favourite for Clarke was the callas', Beautiful long stems like porcelain and a string of gold.

When the new bouquet didn't arrive the next month, she tried to not be hurt. A little seed of doubt burrowing down into her trust. But she acted like nothing could possibly be wrong. They were just flowers after all.

But her gaze couldn't help wander back to the empty vase on her sill, the water unchanged from the last bunch. Still fragranced. She just couldn't let go yet. And the month trudges by, now spring and and bursting with floral life, but none comparing to her mystery bunches.

The day the note arrived was a day she had planned to buy some flowers herself, perhaps to just spite her secret flower purchaser.But the arrival of this letter stopped er in her tacks. It was small a rectangle that would fit in the palm of her hand, yet fat with its content. The address was written almost in print style in pencil that had smudged a little around the edges. The envelope made a lot of noise to touch, crinkling easily but a with an even more well worn letter inside, it looked thoroughly bored over and as though it was ripped from the back of a notebook. She brushed her fingers along its wrinkles and placed it in her pocket. Breathing in deeply, catching a new scent in the air. And a shiver fell down her spine.

Cold water fills the outside air, dew rising in the early morning. The spring days were always like this, a surprise chill every morning, you would think the shock of the cold would have worn off or at least become expected, but the end of the days were so warm, like golden syrup poured down everyone's back ,slowing their movements and lulling them to be still, that you couldn't help but be taken aback by the shock of frost in the morning. The icy air was sharp and and pulled her coat taunt against her skin while she walks far too quickly. Exhilarated by the chilly lights reflecting off her hair, a cold induced warmth on her cheeks. 

The clouds were still hiding the sun.

But she can see him now, just ahead. his back turned to her. And then she runs, the wave hits her and she is forced to sprint to him. Hair wildly flailing in the wind and her face split into an eye-watering smile, and he turns. Her loud steps warning him, his eyes match hers and his smile quickly catches up. She wavers a moment, suddenly less than 2 meters away and unsure of herself, so he closes the distance. Eyes on hers as she finally kisses him. Then Bellamy lets his eyes rest. Waiting for Clarke's to open to see them both standing in front of the garden of red carnations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay. I hate Jason for that ending, I hope you find mine slightly more satisfactory. also if ur curious, I gave some meaning to the flowers Bellamy gave Clarke. this is the site if u want to know a little :)
> 
> http://thelanguageofflowers.com
> 
> anyway, thank you so much for this journey. I love u all so much. thank you for even reading this and commenting and leaving me kudos. if u ever need anything from me I am in debt to u.
> 
> okay I'm gonna go now. and I'm gonna miss u


End file.
